Editorial

The higher education sector today looks very different to that of, say, twenty or so years ago. You may perhaps be a reader, an academic, who graduated from university at that time, in the run up to the start of the new millennium, or perhaps earlier. It is no exaggeration to say that the university landscape has changed dramatically since then. The reasons are complex and varied, not least perhaps because of the push from future employers of our students, their future employees, to be more ‘work ready’ than might have been expected in years past. It also goes without saying that there are increased financial costs involved for our students these days, and also that there are far more of them, in the sector. Society more generally changes over time and this is reflected in not only what we, educators, do in our universities but it also impacts the lives of our students, naturally enough. Very often, students have to take on roles outside the classroom, outside of university, which significantly impact what they are, and are not, able to do in terms of their studies. If, for example, they are the main carer for a relative, or have to look after their own children, or to pay others for childcare, or have to work to not only pay the fees but also to live, on a day to day basis, there is the issue of to what extent we, universities, need to adapt, in light of this knowledge. To expect our students to be on campus, five days a week, from nine in the morning until five in the evening, is unrealistic. It may even be from earlier in the day or until later into the evening in fact, as this is the timetabling schedule in many universities. As we want to encourage attendance or, more importantly, engagement, it is vital that we do all that we can to assist our students when it comes to their out-of-classroom experiences. After all, students spend far more time outside of the classroom than they do within it, regardless of how good the timetabling of the lectures and seminars are.

Within the university we, educators, may have little control over when our lectures or seminars are scheduled. Often, this scheduling/timetabling is done centrally, rather than locally, within departments, and there is often little if any choice, particularly for those of us with large classes (anything over 300 students). Many universities were built decades ago, some hundreds and hundreds of years ago, and they built small classrooms, not those to accommodate some 500 or even 1000 students, after all. Whilst some universities have since built bigger lecture theatres to accommodate larger classes, these are in short supply. This means that the ‘window’ for scheduling any teaching activity has had to be widened, taking in the hours before nine in the morning and after five in the evening, to fit them all in. With the best will in the world, and with the most active, dynamic, popular lecturer that it is possible to find to run it, it is very difficult indeed to get full attendance at a lecture that takes place from six to eight o’clock in the evening, on a Friday, at the end of the working week, particularly in the middle of winter, when it is dark, and when transport home afterwards may be affected by some awful weather of one sort or another! Talking of winter, there are always students who will, through no fault of their own or due to any lack of motivation, be unable to attend, perhaps through illness, or some other personal circumstance that means that, rightly and properly, they must devote their time and attention to their health or to their family. Fortunately, rather than ‘attendance in class, in person’, we are (or should be) more focused on engagement, learning, and to seeing what we can to better help our learners when they are not in the classroom, for whatever reason. Here is where technology can be extremely helpful. In the early days of the technological advances, there was a fear that students would no longer need academics/faculty, that technology would somehow take over. As yet, there are no signs at all that this is even a remote possibility, whether a good thing or not. Whilst we have, for a very long time indeed, had courses delivered by distance learning (this pre-dates the introduction of computers), this is still a small part of the higher education sector. Most of us, in ‘normal’ classrooms, that is, teaching classes in campus-based universities, are still doing so, but harnessing the technologies at our disposal, to help us to do that. It would be a rare classroom indeed that is not now using ‘blended learning’ to some extent or the other. ‘Blended learning’ used to be ‘new’ but it is now standard, the norm.

Gaining in popularity at the moment, as can be seen from the increase in the amount of literature about it, is the use of what is called the ‘flipped’ classroom. It is, then, no surprise that in this issue there is an article on this very subject matter. Entitled ‘Does ‘flipping’ promote engagement?: A comparison of a traditional, online, and flipped class‘, the authors Alison S Burke and Brian Fedorek, from Southern Oregon University in the US, take us through the sometimes slightly different terminology used to describe this, and report on their study. If, as the literature claims, the flipped class may deliver the benefits claimed, the authors say that there is a need to test this further, and their study was designed to find out whether or not student engagement is higher in the flipped class when compared to two other modes, that is, an online class and a normal lecture one, that is, the traditional face-to-face one. Part of the appeal of, and justification for, the flipped class is that it should allow the class time to be taken up with more practical application of the content that has been provided to learners prior to coming to class. However, to what extent such ‘real world’ activities can be done in class is, to a certain extent, dependent on class size. What we, educators/faculty, can do with a class of twenty students is arguably very different than that which we can do with a class of some four hundred and twenty students in a classroom. Or, more accurately, often a tiered lecture theatre. Whilst extolling the virtues of anything, whether the flipped classroom or anything else, the issue of class size is something that is often overlooked in descriptions of studies, yet should not be, as large classes are, for some, the norm, the reality. So, here, in the flipped classroom, whilst it is easy to imagine, and to make it happen, that students watch recorded lectures at home, or wherever they choose to view them, it is difficult to imagine how, in a lecture of some four hundred or so, that the students will be able to do the kinds of activities described in this article, that is, to complete their assignments or do any tests. Indeed, it is somewhat of a puzzle as to why the class would be used for such a purpose, as activities such as doing assignments and tests are those which are ideally suited to doing outside of the classroom. Indeed, if either of these are to be assessed, it would be necessary to set these up to take place under the same conditions as for examinations, at least if the marks for those assessments made their contribution to the award, because the conditions in a lecture theatre or any other classroom would not be those which would allow for the kind of space, or monitoring, which would allow for the work to be done entirely by an individual. We are, after all, assessing the individual, and awarding a degree/qualification to an individual, and not to a group.

The article raises the issue of engagement, satisfaction and retention, as the literature cited suggests that the benefits of the flipped classroom may make their contribution to positive gains in these. Whilst these are, without doubt, vitally important, there is also the issue of performance, actual performance, to bear in mind here. In the end, marks are awarded, degrees are awarded. The classroom is an important element, but it is not the only element. The learning environment, whether within or outside of a classroom, is but one factor which makes its contribution to the overall experience of a student, when they consider how satisfied they are with their experience at university. There are top-ranked, top-rated universities where most if not all of the learning environment is online, not in the ‘normal’ classroom. Engagement does not mean ‘you must be in a traditional classroom’. Nor should ‘engagement’ be confused with ‘learning’. Learners, or anyone else, can turn up to every single classroom or activity, which for many seems to satisfy the ‘engagement’ part, that is, if people turn up, it means that they are engaging, but that does not mean that they are necessarily learning anything, or even engaging, in fact. As for retention, again, the classroom environment plays its part, but retention is far too complex an issue to be reduced, solely, to the learning environment. It would be very worrying indeed if any department or university had 100% retention, or even close to that. For perfectly valid, reasonable reasons, some students need to leave, and we should be helping them to do so, as quickly as we can. Examples of that include the first year undergraduate student who has, a term or two into it, decided that rather than do business and management that they want to pursue a degree in languages; the list of reasons for wanting to leave a particular course or university goes on. However, the article raises the pertinent issue of today’s learners, that is, what is called the ‘millenial’ student. Without doubt, they have been brought up in a very different learning environment, both at home and before they came into higher education, not least because of the technology at their fingertips, literally. For such learners, the article tells us that ‘active’ learning may well need to include far more variety, challenge and change than that in the more ‘traditional’ learning environment of the ‘traditional’ lecture hall. Whether this is the case or not, the learning environment of today is, and needs to be, a very different one in light of the need to ensure that we are adopting a less teacher-centred approach to the learning environment that, in part, we ourselves design.

It is, however, a fallacy that ‘the old days’ in universities were places where students just sat, passively, ‘absorbing’ things, with little or no ability to become the creative, dynamic thinkers that, in fact, they actually became. The workplace and elsewhere is full of people in their forties, fifties and beyond, many of whom are the ‘product’ of a university somewhere. They are no less likely to be wonderfully creative, independent, able to lead, to manage, to think outside the box, or anything else that is required, whether in the workplace or anywhere else. Whilst human beings evolve over time, they/we do not evolve to the extent where our abilities to think, to reason, to learn and the rest change between one generation and the next! Or even between centuries, for that matter. Nor are these thinking skills and related gleaned only from having gone to university. The world is (and always has been) full, full of hugely successful people who have never even been to university; people who are no less creative, dynamic, collaborative, forward thinking and the rest. Going to university is a great thing (which is why we choose to work in a university, as we are certain of its value) but we need to be careful to not overstate its contribution. Returning to the issue of the flipped classroom, an element of caution is introduced in this article in that, by necessity, it relies on students having access to not only the technology itself, that is, a computer or similar but also a reliable internet connection, which may not necessarily be the case, particularly in the home environment. There are usually plenty of computer labs on campus but never enough for every single student to have access to one all day every day, even if they could be on campus all day, every day, which is unlikely to be the case for many. Indeed, the article tells us that, compared to the 1960s, when students reported spending around 24 hours a week studying, today’s students report spending around 14 hours a week, suggesting that they may perhaps not be as interested in studying outside the classroom as we might believe and/or may not be suitably prepared for such an environment. An even more pertinent issue, perhaps, is the aspect of performance, actual performance. The authors of this article cite studies which claim that not only do the students not enjoy the flipped classroom that much and that they perceive there to be less support for them in such an environment but that their marks/grades are no higher. Given the complexities involved, the study described in this article asks whether or not the flipped classroom is better for certain courses rather than simply using it across the board. The study described at the three modes, that is, online, flipped and the traditional face-to-face lecture; all three were taught by the same lecturer/instructor. The results make for fascinating reading, and the study makes its contribution to not only the growing literature about this but also the debate about how, or if, to introduce the flipped class to our repertoire.

Whether the flipped class or any other, we, educators, are always trying (or should be trying) to create a learning environment that is best suited to our learners. Whilst no one would or could disagree that different students have different needs, learning styles and all the rest, whether in a class of only twenty students or one with four hundred and twenty, there is no ‘one size fits all’. What will appeal or work with one learner may well not do so with another, or not at that particular time, or for that particular task. All that we can do, as educators, is to have sufficient variety, whether in terms of activities, approach or anything else. As is so often the case these days, technology can be harnessed to assist our learners (and ourselves) in terms of fostering engagement, whether within or outside the classroom. In the large class, this can be even more of a challenge, and how we might do so is the subject of the second article comprising this issue. Entitled ‘Considerations for using personal wi-fi enabled devices as ‘clickers’ in a large university class‘, its authors Larry Katz, Megan C Hallam and Michael M Duvall from the University of Calgary and Zoe Polsky from McGill University, Canada, report on a study using clickers. In ‘the old days’ of clickers, some educators would likely have been put off using these, as the clickers had/have to be handed out to all the students at the beginning of the class and then collected from them at the end. In a class of some four hundred or more, this would take up a significant part of the lecture time, and would thus be rejected for this reason, alone. However, the technology has now moved on, as has the technology that is now used by today’s learner, outside the classroom. Students no longer need an actual clicker. Instead, their smart phone, laptop or tablet can be used as a clicker. As most, if not all, students have at least one of these by their side, all day, both inside and outside the university environment, particularly the smart phone, this has opened up the use of clickers in various ways. Or, at least, for those of us fortunate enough to live and work in a country where most can afford to have such technologies. For example, at an induction session for new undergraduate students recently, I saw my colleague asking the new students to consider something, and then choose a response from the options listed. Every single student in what is a traditional, standard university here in the UK had either a smart phone or a laptop or tablet with them, and they readily responded. The look on their faces did not say ‘this is novel, we weren’t expecting this’ but instead ‘as we use our smart phones or tablets/laptops all day, every day, we were expecting to do so here, in the classroom, too’. As this is the reality of our students’ lives today, it is no wonder that we need to take this on board somehow even if, for educators, this all seems ‘novel’.

As the authors of this article tell us, such devices can be used to make our classrooms not only more interesting but also one which today’s students can relate to. Whether the case or not, clickers can certainly be useful, whether in a large class or any other (their use is not confined to solely large classes), as their use in this study demonstrates. As the authors say, clickers may be useful in classes where students feel somewhat anonymous, not connected, and this as likely in the smaller class as it is in the bigger one, although it is acknowledged that sitting in a tiered theatre with some four or five hundred students, with the lecturer a mere dot on the stage at the front if the students are sitting in the back row, is more likely to make you feel pretty disconnected, and you are certainly going to be anonymous, as no lecturer could possibly remember all those names and faces, despite their best efforts. The article reports on all the known benefits of clickers, including that students enjoy the fun element of them, that they can ‘speak’ without drawing attention to themselves, that is, do so anonymously (being anonymous is a very desirable thing in some circumstances), it breaks up the lecture and allows for some kind of interaction. The article says that one thing that students particularly like about it is to see the results of a question being displayed to the whole class, most likely because whilst we are all individuals, we want our students to be independent and the rest, as humans, it is inbuilt in us to be part of a group, a society, and so we are always keen to know about our fellow human beings, and also our own place within it. Whatever the reason(s), clickers are very much welcomed by learners. That said, like everything, there are downsides. Understandably, students do not want clickers to be used as some kind of ‘attendance police’ or, worse, that their non-attendance or even their ‘non participation’ (not responding via clicker at all, or responding, but not giving the right answer) is used in some way to give them a lower mark/grade.

Punctuality and turning up are certainly things that future employers want to have in our graduates, but these are not skills or abilities associated with ‘graduateness’. Employers demand good timekeeping from every single worker, whatever their job, and even the worker in the least skilled of jobs will need to turn up, and on time, or at least if they want to keep that job. We, in universities, do not need to teach this, or even remind our future graduates that their future employers will demand this of them; it is a given, and our students know this, without needing to be told. If, like any worker, a student chooses to arrive late, or not at all, like us, they are aware of the risks involved. Students are adults, not children, and whilst being eighteen or over (even far over) does not necessarily make us sensible, to tell our students ‘attendance is important’ is to risk them considering this to be patronising. It is the equivalent of we, educators, being told ‘teaching well is important’. Leaving the issue of attendance aside, the study described in this article looks at the use of using devices such as smart phones or tablets which can act as clickers, and reports on how useful or otherwise the learners found it. Of particular interest is how their use changed over time, and why that was the case; this has implications for those of us who have not yet used clickers. To return to the issue of attendance, not unsurprisingly, students in this study did not like having their attendance tracked. The authors rightly say that if students believe that we are using clickers to control or monitor their behaviour, they will see it as the ‘virtual police’ and not as something which assists them in their learning or which may foster the engagement that they, and we, want. Interaction and engagement is a theme which is carried through into the next article in this issue, which looks at how the use of case studies in the classroom may impact engagement in terms of their emotional engagement and whether or not this impacts their performance, in terms of marks/grades. Entitled ‘Using case method to enrich students’ learning outcomes‘, its authors Mathews Nkhoma, Narumon Sriratanaviriyakul and Huy Le Quang, all from RMIT in Vietnam, discuss at length the issues involved with collaborative learning in small groups, explaining both its advantages and detailing the criticisms of it, most notably that it is said to affect what learners actually do (it is different from the traditional lecture) but that it does not necessarily affect their desire, their wanting, to learn. The authors rightly say that motivation is clearly a factor in any learning environment, the small group one or any other, but that the cognitive and the affective also play a part.

One activity, used by us all, is to make use of case studies, as these have the advantage of bringing a ‘real world’ feel to the subject matter, as when learners are faced with whatever is being described in the case study, they immerse themselves in it, and take on the role of decision makers, if only in a role playing situation. Not only does this allow greater insight into the subject matter being explored by way of the case study but it is a means of helping learners to work with each other, effectively, we hope, and to further develop their critical thinking skills and related, although this is not the preserve of the use of a case study, of course. Discussing what is meant by interactivity, the authors go on to say how the use of case studies foster interactivity and how or if the interactions may or may not impact the positivity or otherwise of the group and also their own, individual, performance. Results from the study show that, amongst other aspects, engagement from an emotional perspective is significant when it comes to the use of case studies in class but that the relationship between any kind of interaction and that of performance is complicated by many factors other than these, which makes this a particularly complex area of learning to explore. The matter of doing, rather than saying, is a topic matter explored in the fourth article comprising this issue. Entitled ‘From saying to doing interdisciplinary learning – is PBL the answer?‘, this looks at problem-based learning (PBL), arguing that although its approach is claimed to be interdisciplinary in nature, there is a need to explore precisely what this means, in practical terms and also what it means for not only learners but both faculty and institutions as well. Its author, Diane Stentoft, from Aalborg University in Denmark, starts off the argument for the need for this by saying that as societies change over the years, by implication this means that we, in universities, have to change, to rise to the new and different challenges, to innovate. Changes in higher education in recent times means that there is now a blurring between disciplines and that as well as factors such as the need for our future graduates to be suitably prepared for the workplace, both in terms of their practical skills and abilities and also their ability to think critically and related, the author argues that this brings PBL into the spotlight. That said, the author argues that whilst the need for PBL seems compelling, what is lacking is an understanding of how we might organise this in order to best scaffold interdisciplinary learning. Raised in this is the issue of ensuring that we distinguish between multidisciplinary, interdisciplinary and transdisciplinary learning, which are described in great detail, as is the subject of PBL itself. Along with its clarity and the ease by which the reader is able to follow the complexities around this subject matter, this makes for an absorbing, compelling read.

Our conceptions of a particular subject matter are also the subject of the fifth article comprising this issue. This, also, looks at the aspect of a particular discipline or disciplines and how our perspectives and beliefs shape our understandings. Entitled ‘Perspectives on teaching: Conceptions of teaching and epistemological beliefs of university academics and students in different domains’, its authors, Lena Päuler-Kuppinger and Regina Jucks, from the Westfälische Wilhelms-Universität Münster in Germany, explore how both learners and academics/faculty perceive not only knowledge and its acquisition but also the teaching within a discipline or disciplines. Whatever we do, as human beings, is underpinned by our beliefs, naturally enough, and by extension this must also apply to our beliefs, our conceptions, about both learning and teaching. Whether or not we are conscious of those beliefs is another matter, but they exist. As the authors rightly say, staff development or training courses for university academics/faculty help us to understand and to articulate these, and we currently understand there to be two orientations, that is, a more student-centred one and more teacher-centred one, as detailed in this article. That said, things are never as clear or as neat as that, and it is likely more the case that there is a continuum of some sort and that, according to various factors, we may well use a more student-centred/less teacher-centred approach or vice versa over the course of a particular set of activities. As it is regarded as the ‘better’ approach, many of us claim to be student-centred at all times but having read the literature on this subject matter, the activities that we use, and that are standard in the sector, make it clear that we are not as student-centred as we like to believe, or that we claim. The notion of ‘disseminating knowledge’ is associated with the teacher-centred approach, and this includes aspects such asking students to come up with correct answers, that we organise and present material well in lectures, labs and seminars, that we set them what Gibbs (1994) calls well-structured problems and standard exercises and that parts are studied separately and they only come together at the end of a module/course, perhaps by way of an examination. When these tasks are done, we provide feedback on them (or not, as it is not a given that feedback is provided). In other words, we set our students tasks, and they are rewarded for competing them successfully, according to the model presented by Gibbs (1994) and of course by others, such as Kember (1997) and Trigwell et al (2005), as acknowledged and descried by the authors of this article. This provides support for the argument that, much as we might claim otherwise, there is still much that we do, in practice, that reflects the notion that knowledge is to be disseminated in some way.

As the authors note, this means that one of our key roles is to create what we perceive to be the appropriate learning environment for our learners. However, as the article makes clear, it is not only about our own perceptions, our own beliefs, as there are also those of our learners to consider as well, as none of us come to anything, whether in higher education or anywhere else, without these. The authors make the argument that whilst there is much that we know about the conceptions of both learners and academics/faculty, separately, there is a need to compare the two, and to see what, if any, differences exist. As these may vary from discipline to discipline (with some being classified as being in the ‘hard’ or ‘soft’ domains), the study described in this article explores this. The article starts off by detailing what we know about what are known as epistemological beliefs, that is, the nature of knowledge and the process of knowing, which in turn impact our thinking, and how these vary from discipline to discipline. Looking at aspects such as uses the dimensions of certainty and simplicity and source and justification of knowledge, the authors describe the continuum here between objectivist and relativistic beliefs and report that these are shaped in part by our environment and that they are subject to change as we move not only from being a child to an adult but also throughout our lives once we reach adulthood, and are particularly ‘plastic’, that is, open to change, in any formal learning environment such as school or university. The authors argue that as our beliefs develop over time and particularly whilst at university, this means that there is much more that we need to do to better understand the perhaps different beliefs that both learners and academics/faculty hold, given that the beliefs that we, academics/faculty, hold impact the satisfaction or otherwise that our students have with their experience of learning whilst at university. The study described in this article looks at these issues within both the ‘soft’ and ‘hard’ domains, using two well known instruments to measure both approaches to teaching and also domain-specific epistemological beliefs. The results make for very interesting reading, although the authors themselves acknowledge that, as is the case with any study about beliefs or conceptions, this may or may not tie up with what we do, in practice, in our classrooms. Nonetheless, the study sheds light on what is a very interesting subject matter, that is, the differences, or not, between the beliefs and conceptions that both learners and academics/faculty have of knowledge and also of teaching.

Differences, or otherwise, are also at the heart of the sixth and final article comprising this issue. This one, however, looks at a trait or characteristic that most of us wish that we had in abundance at all times, that is, resilience. Because, whether as a student or anyone else, life has a habit of throwing things at us that test us in many ways, and whilst all human beings have resilience inbuilt in us, some have more of this than others, naturally enough. Entitled ‘Differences in resilience between ‘traditional’ and ‘non-traditional’ university students’, this article looks at how resilience is related to our well being and success or, more specifically, the well being and success of our learners, our students, in the higher education context. Its authors, Ethel Chung, Deborah Turnbull and Anna Chur-Hansen, all from the University of Adelaide in Australia, report in their study that whilst challenges exist for all students, we need to better understand how this plays out when it comes to what is called the ‘non-traditional’ students which, they say, have not been the subject of as much research as that of ‘traditional’ students. By ‘non-traditional’ the article says that this means students who, before the days of the massification of higher education, when it was the preserve of the so-called elite, such students were, for various reasons, not at university. Since the onset of the huge changes that we have seen in higher education in the last decade or so, and as the article tells us, all universities are now focusing a great deal of attention on trying to recruit more ‘non-traditional’ students to apply for university and also to retaining them once they are here, which is often no easy task, for various reasons. Such students might, perhaps, be working adults, come from families where they were the first to go to university or perhaps those from lower-income families say the authors, going on to tell us that as a result there has been a growing interest to further explore how their experience of university and their success or otherwise within it may be impacted by socio-demographic factors. It is argued that ‘traditional’ students may have fewer challenges in making the transition to higher education, and to staying within it whilst there, due to various factors. However, whether ‘traditional’ or ‘non-traditional’, or somewhere on the continuum between the two, every student is going to need plenty of resilience along the way.

We might perhaps think that ‘traditional’ students would outperform their ‘non-traditional’ counterparts given the perception that they face fewer challenges or whatever but as the article tells us, certain ‘non-traditional’ students outperform their ‘traditional’ peers. The authors describe at length the issue of resilience itself, as this is complex, as is the issue of what is meant by the term ‘non-traditional’, the latter of which helps to account for the need for the study described within this article. Their discussion sheds light on this important, and fascinating, area of student behaviour and performance when it comes to the ‘traditional’ and the ‘non-traditional’ student; students that all of us have in every classroom, regardless of the discipline, institution or country in which we teach. Of note is an issue raised by the authors themselves, that is, that when determining whether or not a particular student should be classified as either ‘traditional’ or ‘non-traditional’ when looking at their resilience or anything else, we are basing our decisions on our own views, our own perceptions, of what is ‘traditional’ or not. Those of our students may well be very different indeed. In other words, an educator/academic may consider a particular student to be ‘non-traditional’ but that student considers themselves to be ‘traditional’, or vice versa. Whilst not a major weakness of any study, including this one, the authors nevertheless remind us of the circumspection that we need to bear in mind when both collecting and analysing data or, more accurately, when drawing conclusions from any study. This study sheds light on which students perceive themselves to be more resilient, and in what ways, and also what we, in institutions, need to take on board when looking at our learners when it comes to thinking about and providing the support that we provide for students. The authors also raise the interesting issue of what is called a ‘gap year’, that is, not leaving school and going into university straight away but instead perhaps working, travelling or doing volunteering work before going to university. This is relevant because such activity is developmental in terms of personal growth and therefore may impact both stress and resilience, which in turn affect retention and performance when at university. As the authors rightly say, research into resilience is needed given the diversity in the student population in today’s higher education sector, which is impacted by changes more widely in society. One of the key messages to emerge from this article is that the authors argue that we need to move away from what they call a ‘deficit framework’, that is, one that sees/classifies students as lacking in some way and instead to one where prior experiences, skills and strengths, that is, the positives, are recognised. It is always good to end with a positive, whether about resilience or anything else, so the overview of the studies described in this issue finishes on this note.