When I created my final project, I tried to incorporate a sense of consistency and familiarity for my learners. The course itself asks the learner to go out into the wide Internet world and come back with new knowledge. I see my job is to give them the structure of a home, a safehaven.

With those thoughts in mind, I purposefully designed a meaningful course logo and threaded it throughout all of my design elements – – – videos, electronic documents, on the LMS itself. That repetitive visual element can serve as a launching point for the brain.

I also carefully chose photographs and filmed video sequences that directly connected to the concepts being discussed and researched. Researching the water needs of your vegetable garden? Then let’s put your brain in the right mode by opening with a closeup video of a running faucet. Make it truly multimedia by incorporating the familiar sound.

Instead of the Method of Loci, I choose to take the time to find a suitable, parallel analogy or explain the factual information at whatever level is needed for true understanding. I know it seems that I fight the Method of Loci too much, but I reached the conclusion a long time ago that my brain doesn’t follow normal pathways. I am who I am. Unfortunately, that makes it difficult for me to think of that strategy as useful for others. I am probably cheating someone out of a connection, simply because I do not see it.

The little people have returned to my home. It’s the Method of Loci, a cognitive activity that attempts to increase long-term memory by creating mental connections with vivid visuals. The premise goes that the practitioner creates a memorable image that incorporates all of the components that need to be memorized. Oftentimes these memorable images involve people in your private space, for some odd reason. Even more odd, they all seem to be just casually and happily hanging out.

What works for me…

I know that many people find value in such exercises. After all, there are books about these sorts of things AND people that buy these books. I’ve always had a pretty good memory anyway. That’s one of my characteristics that made lower level education very easy. But as I’ve had to remember more and more things throughout life, I’ve developed very different strategies than the Method of Loci.

For me, imagining an impossible scenario is too distracting for me to remember the initial information. I get too side-tracked. When I want to remember something, I have two methods I employ, depending upon the type of information I need to recall. If it’s quick, short-term info such as a shopping list, I just force myself to say out loud how many items I need to buy. If I need milk, eggs, toothpaste, and garbanzo beans, then I audibly say, “Four things, four things, four things” in the car right before I go into the store. It works for me.

But for the hard stuff…

But Method of Loci followers could quickly point out that my grocery list was never intended for long-term, conceptual memory – – – the type of memory that Method of Loci aims to invigorate. And that’s right. For conceptual information that I need to retain long-term, I have a different strategy. It take more effort, but it hasn’t failed me. I simply look at the concepts I am supposed to remember, and I tell myself that I am NOT supposed to memorize them. Instead, I must LEARN them.

Here’s what I mean. When I encounter difficult information, whether it be in tax law or evolutionary theory, I stop what I’m doing and read it again. I either connect it to something I have observed previously or I go online and read more about it until I understand it. I find that when I understand a concept, I don’t have to memorize it.

Helping others acquire knowledge

Similarly, in the classroom, I try to teach for understanding and application, hopefully even evaluation. I honestly don’t encourage gathering large amounts of knowledge. I encourage embracing the process of seeking understanding.

As a science teacher, there are very few things more rewarding than to discuss concepts with students and *then* back fill with vocabulary and the names of the original theorist. Sure, I do utilize analogies and metaphors in my instruction. But the parallel “story” has to be real and make sense to me. I’m much more successful with understanding ideas through an analogous concept or process as opposed to gathering a bunch of unrelated objects in my mind.

I’ve noticed that in my instructional design, I tend to gravitate toward *real* pictures, *real* examples. In my opinion, that media communicates much more strongly than forcing disconnected events to somehow connect. In my Project B, I utilized as many real images as I could find and create. Unfortunately, the world being turned upside down prevented me from gaining a true instructional designer/client relationship. My husband did his best to create expectations for me to meet, but I know that I still need to experience the real thing.

Self: A person’s essential being that distinguishes them from others.

We are all unique, aren’t we? Doesn’t the definition of “self” preach individuality? Don’t we all see and experience and digest the world around us through custom-made filters? Yes, we do. So when that unique, custom-made, individual person undertakes a learning experience, who is in the best position to direct, manage, regulate and guide the education process? Why, the “self,” of course.

Be My Own Boss

One recurring daydream I have had throughout my adult life is the notion of running my own business. I know it is difficult – – – I grew up in a household centered around my father’s one-man, service-based business. Four years old, and I was taught to stamp the invoices with my father’s company name and phone number. I loved my “job,” not realizing it was one of many ways my parents had engineered to scrimp and save every single penny that they could. I thought we were rich because my father did not report to a boss. He was the boss; he made the decisions. It did bring freedom to our family. But that freedom was coupled with responsibility.

In the same way that my father shouldered the responsibilities of his business enterprise, I must be my own boss when considering my education. Because I am the sole owner of my “self,” I must responsibly nurture and advocate, manage and regulate. In this vein, my current K-12 public education employer presents a carefully-crafted “Portrait of a Graduate” on its website. One of the key descriptors is listed as a Self-Directed Learner,

Although I was hired to grow my students into Self-Directed Learners, I must ensure that I am one first.

What’s In It For Me?

So how does being a self-directed learner benefit me? How does it help me achieve my goals? The answer to these questions is honestly quite simplistic. If I am self-directed, then I am the one setting the goals. I am the boss. I get to decide what defines success and what defines failure. In fact, when I look closely at my employer’s portrayal of a Self-Directed Learner, I would love to add two small letters and change “own progress” to “owned progress.” My progress is owned by me. I get to be the owner.

But Self Does Not Mean Selfish

Up until this point, I’ve reflected on my responsibilities in my own learning. But how does this philosophy of independent, self-directed learning translate into my current role as a high school teacher and anticipated future in instructional design? How do I shift these values into my lessons, training pieces, and educational constructs?

As a teacher prior to COVID-19, I was free to design and customize instruction in my classroom. Although I certainly spent ample time fretting over content, I gradually learned that presentation and communication hold far greater importance. I must be clear and easily understood. I must be engaging and relevant. But most important, I must be a fervent missionary of the message that learning is attainable and enjoyable. If I can get my students to believe in their own learning, then the learning experience will be successful. They will strive to seek out the content as self-directed learners in their own right. Artfully designed communication makes that process possible.

With instructional design, communication is equally significant, but it must take alternate pathways. Instead of relying upon the command of my voice and stage presence, instead of asking concerned questions and calmly speaking reassurances, I must now use a digital platform to communicate. My tools will now be videos, animations, carefully-selected pictures and visuals, texts and appropriate fonts, proper educational sequence and confidence-instilling formative assessments. Although I may never personally interact with the audience of my instructional design pieces, I must still somehow get them to believe in their own learning.

I must help them validate and educate their self.

Did I just finish my first Instructional Design project? I think I did. When I check the files in my computer and the coursework I created online, it looks as though I accomplished a goal that had seemed unattainable as recently as two weeks ago. A global pandemic had something to do with that. So what did I learn? What was successful and what fell flat? Where were my strengths, and what instructional design muscles do I need to further train? How will this experience impact my next project?

In the beginning…

I was very careful when I initially approached my client back in September about a prospective project. I wanted to work on something purposeful, something that would help someone, and something that would be actually used. I chose to create a formal online training for our high school student lab assistants. Up until this point, our lab assistants have just been mentored one-on-one by the teacher that they are assigned to. However, such mentoring can be repetitive and take up considerable time. Furthermore, supervising teachers are often tasked with instructing a true class or meeting with curriculum teams during the same class periods that the student lab assistants are working. My project seemed very straightforward and exciting to me. It checked off all of my necessary criteria.

I began slowly – – – as dictated by the analysis-heavy ADDIE process. The first weeks seemed to have quite a bit of overlap and redundancy. Although I sometimes struggled to tease out each step’s essential purpose, I believe that my analysis was ultimately strong. I found new insight in working for a client rather than seeing instruction only through my own lens.

My design portion also began with much momentum. As an experienced high school teacher, I felt very comfortable narrowing down objectives and choosing instructional pieces to accompany them. I was looking forward to creating fun, relevant videos after school in our science prep rooms. I then intended to digitally edit them to embed review questions and create a true learning experience for our lab assistants.

And then…

Life changed. Even before COVID-19.

The first problem that I encountered was that as I followed the analysis and planning process as scheduled on my college class syllabus, I noticed that our student lab assistants (i.e. my audience) were no longer in need of training. They had already been trained on-the-job by the lab supervisors. Implementation of my course would simply take up valuable work time and no longer serve a necessary purpose. I worked around that first problem by planning to use an alternative focus group instead of my intended audience to provide feedback. Knowing that my training could be used next school year, I still found value in my project.

And then my client was taken away from me for a period of time due to her personal needs and additional work-related demands. I was so thankful that she had agreed to work with me in the first place given how time is never a surplus in K-12 education. When I saw the huge personal and professional challenges that she was facing, I chose to give her space. I told myself that I would have more time to speak with her “next week,” once things clear up a bit. We could do the videos then.

And then that “next week” arrived, but I was sick at home with a fever. Very sick. I lost yet more time on my instructional design project. Then it was Spring Break, and I lost another week. And then coronavirus and news of coronavirus dominated the lives of us all. Everything had spiraled out of control. Other than a half-day during my “sick week” (where I was sent home) and two separate rushed mornings to claim first my instructional technology and then my aquarium from my classroom, I have not been physically-in-the-building-at-work since February 28. That is five weeks ago. As a teacher, I have shifted to supporting a canned online curriculum for the past two weeks. Establishing communication with my students has become my chief pursuit. My instructional design project lost steam.

Try, try again…

But after many false starts, I managed to pick my instructional design project back up and see it to its conclusion. Throughout the process, I learned more than anything that I have to truly become flexible yet persistent. Sometimes I became so sold on one of my ideas that I lacked the flexibility to develop an alternative method when necessitated. That stubbornness on my part will be something I will need to overcome if working for a client. Additionally, I sometimes lacked the daily persistence needed to stick to a schedule. Although my distractions were caused by some truly exceptional occurrences, I still need to cultivate a more timely and professional approach. However, I do believe that this second problem will be overcome if instructional design is my confirmed career and no longer just an educational pursuit.

The takeaway

So what can I apply to my future instructional design projects? For projects that I will be able to select (i.e. for graduate coursework), I plan to limit as many variables as I can. Given the instructional approach chosen by my K-12 employer, I am not allowed to design and present true online educational programs for our students. Instead, I am tasked with supporting the electronic curriculum chosen at the district level. Unfortunately, that decision effectively eliminates my use of a client or audience selected through my job. So after experiencing the upheaval from this global pandemic, I plan to choose a client that has nothing to do with public education. Fortunately, instructional design is applicable to ALL arenas of education. There is work to be done.

I was sick for at least two weeks. Fever, cough, head and body aches, but a negative flu test. A full three weeks later, and I still have the occasional cough. My son is one week behind me, having spent time with me hours before I presented with a 102.8 fever. My husband never got sick. But it wasn’t COVID-19. I think.

Life-changing

I only missed one week of work for my illness. As I started my second week with a fever, I was happy that school was out for Spring Break, and I would not have to burn up any more sick leave. Midway through Spring Break, my school district adopted the actions of those around it and canceled the next week of school due to this virus, COVID-19. I was still home, still coughing, but being given a THREE week break. And then my adult daughter, expecting our first grandchild in mid-April, was given permission to work remotely until she takes maternity leave. We briefly rejoiced. Briefly.

Four days after being sent home, my daughter received notice from her employer that a COVID positive person had visited her floor in their offices during one of her last days downtown. Her chances of contamination are remote, but she is nervously counting the days at home. And my purpose in life consequently changed. With stores shutting down and online purchases tagged with excessive delivery delays, I drove from store to store trying to secure necessary newborn supplies for my daughter and son-in-law. My daughter is now ten days removed since the possible exposure; no symptoms. I am feeling more calm with each day, but still not completely secure. My grandson will be born in the middle of a global pandemic.

I’m still a teacher?

After three weeks out, I will “return” to work in two days. I have a one hour window Monday morning to gather any necessary resources from my classroom as well as tend to my classroom’s large pet fish (if it is still alive). I have been instructed to socially distance myself from anyone else in the building at the time (we are on an alphabetic schedule), and then head home to set up my remote office. I will begin supporting my students’ online instruction from home starting Tuesday.

I am not worried about this new adventure. I feel oddly prepared and very pleased that I began my master’s program in Learning Technologies three semesters ago. My district is choosing curriculum to be implemented uniformly across-the-board, so I will be serving only as a facilitator. I’ll miss the opportunity to design lessons, but I’m welcoming the temporary break given everything else that is going on.

I’m still a student?

My life has changed. And as others around me are finding their lives turning upside-down, I am actually coming back to enough normalcy to restart my classwork in my master’s program. My initial design project (safety training for student laboratory assistants) was built around an audience that no longer exists this school year. Fortunately, my flexible and understanding professor is allowing me to modify the project so that I may still learn in its creation. My second design project is even more elusive at this time, but I am getting ideas. I just need to adapt myself to a new world.

Seeing the future…

Back in June when I first started coursework in this degree program, I remember provocatively stating at a teacher in-service that I believed all education would be going online. The classroom teachers around me balked. Surely students will need to gather for social reasons. Surely brick and mortar schools will continue to be a necessity. But I said, no, I believe that online education is the future. At the time, I was thinking the drive to online would be necessitated by financial reasons and convenience. Plus, I wanted to justify why I had chosen THIS master’s program instead of the Educational Leadership programs more traditionally associated with my K-12 work background. I never thought my proclamation would become reality so soon.

In two days.

It is March 10th, and every single day in March I have been sick. It actually started on Saturday, February 29th with a low grade fever. By the next day, I was running a 102.8, and Tylenol could only get me down to a 101.5. I went to the doctor on Monday still with the fever and a new cough. I walked out with prescriptions for Tamiflu, an antiobiotic (I tested positive for strep), and some hefty cough syrup. I then proceeded to miss work all week long as I fought my recurring fever for the next six days. The past two days I have thankfully been fever-free, but I am still lethargic, weak, dizzy, coughing, missing an appetite, and feel like my head is glued shut with rubber cement. My instructional design project stopped in its tracks.

Method of Loci

In the midst of my illness, one task given to me this week was to explore use of the Method of Loci and see how it fits in with my future instructional design. Akin to Paivio’s conceptual peg hypothesis (2006), the Method of Loci seeks to ease memorization of concepts by linking them to a concrete location or item within a room. The premise is that as the items in a familiar room are recalled, then the linked concepts will be recalled as well.

Most likely because I am not well, I ran afoul almost immediately. According to the assignment, the first step is to “picture a small room that is EXTREMELY familiar to you in your mind.” What room did I picture in my feverish state? My tiny powder room under the stairs. As the exercise progressed, it commanded envisioning a “community of learners” peering out from my small room. Needless to say, I did not get very far in the activity because I wanted all of those people out of my very small bathroom – – – they were being exposed to germs, after all, and I might make them sick.

Seriously, this type of mental exercise has never been popular with me. I am a much more straight forward, pragmatic person. I am the type of teacher that shows up for staff development PRAYING that nobody will make us role play or pretend or immerse ourselves in hypothetical scenarios. Give me real life, not envisioned life.

I found more common ground with an oddly placed link also found in this week’s work about David Sedaris’s Crumpet the Elf. Sedaris recounts being surrounded by overly cheerful role-playing coworkers in Santaland at Macy’s. Sedaris himself seems to be dismayed by their fake glee, and his apparent discomfort with pretending to be something he was not resonates with me. What did I draw from Sedaris’s account? I must be true to myself, even when considering the Method of Loci in my instructional design. I am much more likely to teach relevant applications of information to improve memory of concepts rather than forcing random memory pegs. Real life. That’s me.

Refocusing: real life

And my current real life of being ill has put me much further behind than I intended. Development of my project is behind schedule, and implementation is on hold. I have not been able to have contact with my client due to her own health concerns, and my attempts to create suitable instructional videos do not feel quite right. I am just not firing on all cylinders. Something will need to change. It’s time to step back and refocus.

Paivio, A. (2006) Dual coding theory and education. Draft chapter for conference: Pathways to Literacy Achievement for High Poverty Children. Ann Arbor, MI: The University of Michigan School of Education.

My title for today’s post is in German. That is because my father spoke German before he spoke English, and he truly wanted his native language to rub off on his five daughters. My father’s “Wie geht’s” didn’t just translate into a casual greeting. When he asked me, “Wie geht’s,” he truly wanted me to reply with how I was doing and what was going on in my life. So as I progress in my quest to learn the bones of instructional design, it is time to ask myself, “Wie geht’s?”

What’s going on?

At this point in my course work, I am rapidly completing the planning stage of my first instructional design project and closing in on implementation. I have examined my philosophy of learning, located a client and pitched an idea, assessed the needs of the targeted learners and the instructor, written and rewritten course goals and objectives, identified instructional activities, and planned for both assessment of the learners and the course as a whole. So to answer my father’s question, there is certainly a lot going on.

With all of this planning, I am still finding a big contrast between instructional design and traditional K-12 instruction. I almost chuckle each time I open up the Kindle version of my text entitled Rapid Instructional Design (Piskurich, 2015) since instructional design has proven to inch along at a much slower pace than what I am accustomed. There is nothing “rapid” about it! However, I know that the planning for my instructional design project seems to be crawling along because it is exponentially more thorough than anything I would attempt for my current day job.

How am I doing?

An answer to my father’s “Wie geht’s,” however, did not just encompass a list of the activities I was currently pursuing. My father truly wanted to check in on my emotions like a barometer. He wanted to know how I was feeling about life at that particular time. In context of becoming an instructional designer, therefore, I must report some of my sentiments and reactions.

My first realization is that l believe I am fairly comfortable transitioning into the instructional design world. I say, “believe” at this point, because I have not actually experienced what this career would be like on a full time basis. However, much of what I have learned as a K-12 classroom teacher IS translating well into this work. I already bring much experience in identifying and accommodating for the needs of my learners, and I have found that skill to be key. I also understand how instruction should flow and when natural times for assessment arise. Because I am feeling comfortable in these aspects, I am pleased that I have selected instructional design as a future.

Unfortunately, I am also running into patches of self-doubt, something I have not experienced as an instructor or as a student for several years. I have a constant nagging feeling that I am somehow missing something. That I am NOT on as solid of a footing as it appears. I know that my uncertainty most likely stems from lack of specific experience in instructional design projects. These feelings should subside with time and practice.

So although my father passed away many years ago, I must consider the achievements I have made toward become an instructional designer and reply, “Ganz gut!” I’ll let the non-German speakers Google that one.

For these past two weeks, I have immersed myself in the Analysis portion of ADDIE. As a newcomer to Instructional Design, I have quickly learned that ADDIE (Analysis-Design-Development-Implementation-Evaluation) is my new foundation. Barbara Bichelmeyer (2005) proclaimed what almost everyone already accepted, ADDIE is THE conceptual framework for Instructional Design. So analyze, I must.

What I have learned so far…

Although I am a seasoned educator in the K-12 setting, I am finding that instructional design is very different. For one thing, instructional design is apparently self-assured enough to demand the necessary time to plan, plan, plan, and plan. Honestly, I have never truly been afforded that luxury as a high school science teacher. My planning is almost ALWAYS rushed and inadequate despite my ongoing efforts to work efficiently and expediently. With a new lesson in two different subject matters for 100+ students being required every single day, I will never be allotted the generous analysis time that is built into the ADDIE framework. Therefore, although analysis is somewhat familiar to me, I am not accustomed to pursuing it to this depth.

A quick Google search of the word “analysis” quickly retrieves the definition “(a) detailed examination of the elements or structure of something.” In my very first instructional design project, I am attempting to create a viable module for our high school science preparatory room assistants. I have quickly learned that the elements or structure of this module is certainly more akin to job training than classroom teaching. I am better able to approach my project by viewing the student assistants as employees, not high school students. Consequently, the design side of me is channeling ideas from my employment as a veterinary technician during my teen years; I am not thinking like a high school teacher.

Since I now view this project as a job training module and not classroom instruction, I have decided to develop an initial safety lesson along with quickly-retrieved job aids that will help the student assistants accomplish their work in a safe manner. My analysis, however, has indicated that I am still bound to the traditional high school schedule. Therefore, my unit reflects the almost hour-long class periods instead of a full day or half day of on-the-job-training. As of now, I plan to spend two class periods on safety practices (with one of those days devoted to safety decisions) and three class periods on the actual lab assistant duties. One class period will be targeted solely for a higher-level, more detailed skill: preparation of standard chemical solutions.

My analysis has already uncovered one glaring obstacle. I know that my student assistant learners will have the need for hands-on practice. However, because my instructors may be assigned to other responsibilities (such as teaching a traditional science class) during the instructional time, I must find a way to safely implement hands-on instruction, possibly with the instructor a door away. My current plan is to rely on instructional videos prepared with the instructor/subject matter expert.

Building blocks.

My project analysis and my project design are so closely related to each other, that I am reminded of a term that I use regularly as a biology teacher: mutualistic symbiosis. Symbiosis literally means “living with.” Organisms that are symbiotic have such a close relationship that they live together, intertwined. Although a quick review of biology will also uncover commensalism and parasitism as symbiotic relationships, I have found that the intricate connection of analysis to design most closely represents mutualism, a symbiotic relationship where both parties benefit. By analyzing the needs of my learners and instructors as well as the resources available, I am able to benefit my design. Similarly, my design efforts are serving to develop further analysis. Afterall, as Piskurich (2015) contends, the ADDIE framework is most effectively viewed NOT in a linear fashion, but as more web-like or recursive in nature. Each component of ADDIE affects and influences the other.

I am excited to see where my analysis leads my design, and where my design leads my future analysis. Still grrowing….

Bichelmeyer, B.A. (2005). “The ADDIE model” – A model for the lack of clarity in the field of IDT. AECT 2004 IDT Futures Group Presentations, IDT Record, 1-7.

Piskurich, G. M. (2015). Rapid instructional design: Learning ID fast and right. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

When speaking of instructional technology during its infancy days, Robert Reiser (1987) presented teaching and learning as a systematic process that supported individualized instruction. Although this definition is thirty or more years old, I agree with it today. Learning is tied to the goals and needs of the individual, and the instruction that encourages and enables it is carefully and systematically constructed in response to those goals and needs.

Learning Theories and My View

Learning has been defined by many different models. Behaviorists such as Thorndike, Watson and Skinner presented that learning is a change in behavior toward the intended response for a given stimulus. If a rat receives cheese when making a left turn in a maze, then the rat quickly learns to turn left. Members of the school of cognitivism such as Gagné and Tulving proposed the alternate definition that learning is represented by changes between states of knowledge. A child that increases the number of math facts stored in memory has demonstrated learning (Kay & Kibble, 2016). Constructivists including Piaget and Vygotsky have contended that learning is the construction of knowledge by the learner (or society of learners) through experiences and struggles. Finally, modern constructionism, as portrayed by Papert and Winograd, maintains that learning is a performance-based fulfillment of the learner’s goals (Ertmer & Newby, 2013). Considering this historical survey provides a more complete picture of learning than what would be gained by subscribing to a single definition. Learning can be observed and measured by all these models.

When I consider which learning theory best aligns with my own personal views, however, I gravitate toward the constructivist/constructionist end of the spectrum. Many ponder whether a falling tree makes any sound if no one observes it. I, however, question whether any learning occurs if the student does not own it. Learners, both young and adult, stand to gain only when they wrestle with knowledge and declare personal victory. Similarly, the learner is responsible for owning any knowledge-acquisition goals. Mindlessly checking off someone else’s objectives does not constitute learning.

How Learning Takes Place

Marcy Driscoll (2002) suggests that learning has additional important characteristics beyond the learning theory constructs. She states that “Learning occurs in context. Learning is active. Learning is social. Learning is reflective” (Driscoll, 2002, p. 2). Driscoll illustrates that we learn when operating in a context that we find important. And if the context is not explicitly provided for us, we tend to find our own. Students find meaning when they are engaged in something pertinent to their own lives. This observation dovetails with the theories of learning posited by constructivism and constructionism that the learner has his or her own goals and knowledge is gained through experiences and struggles. Driscoll reminds us that the context should be tied directly to the student.

Driscoll also states that we learn when we are involved and doing something. Learning cannot be painted, projected or even inflicted upon a student. The student must be an active part of the learning. Constructivists and constructionists alike support this concept by suggesting assignments that garner activity from the learner – projects, manipulations, debate, collaborative exercises.

Driscoll says learning is social and we learn when we participate and contribute in a learning community. This idea meshes with the sociocultural constructivism of Vygotsky. By hearing perspectives other than our own, by mentoring weaker peers, by conducting in dialogue-based instruction, we increase our knowledge and insight.

Finally, Driscoll asserts that learning is reflective. This aspect of how we learn is what contributes most to our growth and summons the proponents of cognitivism and their defining characteristic of “changes in states of knowledge.” By receiving feedback from others including peers and teachers, the learner grows in knowledge.  Reflection also provides an opportunity for revision, with revision representing that sought-after progress.

The Best Way to Teach and Who Makes the Best Teacher

Learning, however, is not teaching. As a teacher, I would be remiss to just turn everything over to my students and leisurely say, “Here, go learn.” Students require guidance, and that means that effective instruction requires careful thought and construction. Learners must create meaning, but teachers must be tour guides in how to learn. According to Clark, Kirschner, and Sweller, “many educators confuse ‘constructivism,’ which is a theory of how one learns and sees the world, with a prescription for how to teach” (2012, p. 12). Teaching requires a clear, efficient pathway that has been decided upon in advance. Technology can enhance this well-lit pathway and improve academic productivity (Molenda, 2009). As a teacher, I know that my work is successful when my hours of preparation are transparent to my students. When directions are clear, when visual representations are purposeful and targeted, when feedback is seamless, then my students can easily maneuver through the lesson, gaining independence along the way. The best teacher blends into the background.

References

Clark, R.E., Kirschner, P.A., & Sweller, J. (2012). Putting students on the path to learning: The case for fully guided instruction. American Educator, 36(1), 6-11.

Driscoll, M.P. (2002). How people learn (and what technology might have to do with it). ERIC Digest. ED470032, 1-8.

Ertmer, P. A., & Newby, T. J. (2013). Behaviorism, cognitivism, constructivism: Comparing critical features from an instructional design perspective. Performance Improvement Quarterly, 26(2), 43-71.

Kay, D. & Kibble, J. (2016). Learning theories 101: Applications to everyday teaching and scholarship. Advances in Physiology Education, 40, 17-25.

Molenda, M. (2009). Instructional technology must contribute to productivity. Journal of Computing in Higher Education, 21(1), 80-94.

Reiser, R. (1987). Instructional technology: A history. In Gagne, R.M. (Ed.), Instructional technology: Foundations (pp. 11-41). Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

It took me more than a few years to select Instructional Design as the focus of my master’s degree. During this time, I was intent upon finding a flexible career that would support my life goals when I retire from the traditional face-to-face classroom. I wanted a career that (1) used my brain, (2) could be conducted online in case I wanted to travel, and (3) offered a range of employment constructs from part-time to full-time to contract.

While I quickly ruled out many options during late-night marathon Internet research sessions, other alternatives commanded more of my time. I was even lured into a couple of semesters of undergraduate accounting coursework with the thought of becoming a CPA. My interests were too varied. However, I kept teaching high school science while I was searching. It was during this time frame that I became convinced that I should capitalize on my years of experience in education and my previous career in communications. Instructional design met all of these criteria. I was sold. And now I am invested.

Three semesters in, I am still happy with my choice. My biggest surprise has been the realization that the field of instructional design is even more wide and versatile than I had anticipated. Instructional design was already present and important in my everyday life. I have encountered various forms of instructional design everywhere from my neighborhood gas station to my current place of employment.

As a child of the late sixties and early seventies, I remember thirty-nine cent gasoline, prepaying in cash, odd-even gas rationing lines, and even gas station attendants that pumped the gas for you. Today’s modern gas stations are a different spectacle altogether with a glossy touch screen that accommodates debit cards, gas discount cards, programmable fuel additives, and car wash purchases. Oftentimes found with this technology is a very simple visual-text version of instructional design on how to utilize the gas pump. The goal of its instruction is to demonstrate to anyone — the brand-new teenage driver, the foreign visitor lacking English, the senior citizen occasional driver — how to fuel up his or her vehicle in a safe and efficient manner while successfully completing a financial transaction. Although the instruction varies from pump-to-pump since each gas distributor has its own peculiarities, I find these step-by-step menus, quick visual cues, and auditory affirmations or corrections to be very effective in getting the job done. Gas station lines flow fairly freely with instructional design easing the passage. I walk away knowing that (1) my method of payment must be secured prior to receiving fuel, (2) I must select the appropriate fuel for my vehicle before pumping, and (3) that I should not smoke near a fueling vehicle nor leave my vehicle unattended.

At work this week, I interacted with another piece of instructional design when completing my online seizure training for school personnel through the Epilepsy Foundation. The goals of the instruction were to help me recognize seizure types, understand basic seizure first aid including when a seizure becomes a medical emergency, and provide a supportive classroom environment for any students with epilepsy. The training consisted of a prior assessment, an almost hour-long video component with multiple examples, and a post test. The video training component was effective, as it improved my post test scores. More importantly, I learned (or reinforced) important concepts including (1) lay the victim in recovery mode on his or her side, (2) begin timing as the seizure starts, and (3) treat a seizure that lasts for longer than 5 minutes as a medical emergency.

When I found instructional design during my search for a future career, I felt I had uncovered something new, something cutting edge. After all, coming from a background as a traditional K-12 teacher, I had never heard of it before. However, three semesters into my master’s program, I have quickly realized that instructional design and its ADDIE framework have been around for quite some time. Bichelmeyer (2005) and Piskurich (2015) both emphasize how Analysis – Design – Development – Implementation – Evaluation have stood the test of time. Immersing myself in this field of instructional design will allow me to take a sturdy bridge from my past to my future.

Bichelmeyer, B.A. (2005). “The ADDIE model” – A model for the lack of clarity in the field of IDT. AECT 2004 IDT Futures Group Presentations, IDT Record, 1-7.

Piskurich, G. M. (2015). Rapid instructional design: Learning ID fast and right. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, Inc.