Perhaps, as a resident of New York City, I’m particularly sensitive to nanny-ism characterizations in light of the nanny-label bludgeoning that our fearless Mayor (otherwise known as Nanny Bloomberg) has endured in the wake of NYC’s smoking ban, the Opportunity NYC program, and, most recently, mandatory restaurant calorie count displays and the transfat ban. (Side bar: The McDonald’s chocolate triple thick shake has 1160 calories??) But in reflecting on my first year of teaching, I’m struck by how frequently I found myself torn between nanny impulses (to institute class policies that force students to refrain from using the Internet during class, do the reading, participate in class discussion, etc.) and self-imposed nanny backlash (these are adult graduate students who should either already have self-discipline or develop it before entering the professional world).
Since all true dilemmas in law deserve a balancing test, here’s one to consider when contemplating a nanny-type classroom policy: The greater (1) the discrepancy between professorial and student knowledge regarding the benefits/harms of the behavior being contemplated for management and (2) the potential for those benefits/harms to accrue to other students, the more appropriate the implementation of a classroom policy to manage the behavior. The aggregate of factors one and two should then be weighed against the costs of enforcing the policy.
The first factor (discrepancy in knowledge) recognizes that as professors we sometimes have a much better understanding of why behaviors are good or bad for students. For example, with respect to class participation, we have the experience to know that even the student dedicated to a big firm corporate law career (and therefore sitting in the back row and justifying the failure to participate with the oft-heard rationalization of “I’ll never have to speak in court”) will be asked to give oral reports and analysis to colleagues and clients, run conference calls, and generally be capable of clear and calm public speaking. With respect to the second factor, we professors are also acutely aware that good class discussion helps all students; thus, failure to participate can negatively impact not only the non-participating student but also his or her peers.
With respect to the third factor (costs of enforcement), I mean not administrative costs (record keeping and the like) but costs in the sense of what the policy and its enforcement communicate about expectations and professionalism. In the context of class participation, cold calling (or some version thereof) can communicate an expectation of preparedness and professionalism. So even if the rationale for cold calling stems from a nanny impulse (it will be good for you to participate and do the reading and without cold calling you might not), it isn’t overtly “nanny” in tone and doesn’t subvert a professional atmosphere. A counter example with respect to enforcement is recreational use of the Internet during class. I have yet to discover a way to effectively enforce a policy against in-class Internet use that isn’t so heavy-handedly Nanny State as to undermine a professional atmosphere and potentially outweigh the benefits of preventing recreational Internet use. (Considered and rejected: trolling the classroom playing “I spy” for errant screens, having my assistant peep through a window at the back of the classroom to spot noncompliance, the “freeze, hands in the air” gotcha game, the Internet “jammer” (illegal), turning off the Internet all together (not an option at my school).) So next year what I may do instead is give up on enforcing a no-Internet policy and instead try to minimize factor one (by spending some time explaining to my students in detail why in-class, recreational Internet use is not in their best interest) and factor two (by enforcing a robust participation scheme to blunt the negative impact of Internet use on classroom discussion).
So here is the first tentative outing of a new prof’s “test” for when to intercede with classroom policies designed to make students do what we (think we) know is best for them. I’m off to Starbucks to grab a grande skim latte (130 calories) and avoid at all costs the apple fritter (490 calories).
Posted by Katrina Kuh on June 11, 2008 at 07:10 AM
Comments
It may not be a level playing field, but I don’t think it matters for a couple of reasons. First, a little distraction is not a bad thing when you are otherwise properly engaged. We look at blogs while grading papers or drafting documents. Some students listen better when a small part of their brain is playing freecell – or they just need to open the game and move a few cards in between spurts of paying attention. Unless it is overtly distracting to others, I don’t see it as my business. Second, if most of the class if fully engaged, then the few who would rather surf the net are (a) not going to make a difference in the classroom as public good equation (same caveat as above about overtly distracting), (b) probably wouldn’t make a difference even without the laptop, and (c) probably good for the curve.
I don’t object on principle to professors setting the rule, but unless the usage is distracting, it does seem a little Nanny to me. The most I have ever done is have a student who is too obviously surfing the web research something relevant to the discussion. This keeps things light, lets them know I know, and engages that student. I also have never juggled or done magic tricks to compete against the internet. I must note, though, that I don’t teach very large classes, and the dynamic is probably very different.
Posted by: adjunct | Jun 12, 2008 1:49:26 AM
Rick, cold-calling works because the cold-callee’s neighbor is unprepared. Yes, I understand that your interest is in preparing your class. Every professor’s interest should be in preparing the class, after all, that is what you get paid for. But most students are not going to law school to get educational enrichment, and law school, honestly, doesn’t really provide any such educational enrichment, at least not on the whole. It is a glorified professional school — the Realists won, but Karl Llewelyn’s academic model still perseveres. So, where does this leave us? I am not sure, but laptop banning is most definitely paternalism. … Also, I think jacket requirement policies at restaurants are disgusting. Ostracize me if you don’t want my presence, but don’t prohibit me from eatting at your restaurant.
Posted by: anonymous | Jun 12, 2008 1:19:35 AM
Oh, and to address adjunct’s point: I agree that there can be a correlation with the quality of the instruction, but that correlation doesn’t answer the question. If it were the case that distractions simply made instructors bring their “A” games (which it certainly does to a degree), and that upon achieving a sufficiently good level of instruction the distraction tax ceased, that’d be great. But does it work that way? My sense is that the various demands on one’s attention don’t compete on a level playing field, and that choosing among them is often driven by initial accessibility and short-term appeal (I stumbled on this studying for the bar while sitting next to a TV remote). And if that’s so, it isn’t hard to imagine both that the distraction tax will continue AND that the way one “improves” and competes for attention might not make sense in educational terms.
Posted by: Edward Swaine | Jun 12, 2008 12:33:52 AM
1. The considerations Katrina Kuh mentions (knowledge discrepancy, externalities, cost of enforcement) are very sensible, if impossible to balance against each other. But I wonder whether “professionalism” does much more than express the professor’s expectations of what classrooms should be like. Certainly it’s hard to bring in some extrinsic sense of professionalism to distinguish between these classroom policies. In a workplace meeting, it is considered unprofessional (and worth discouraging, were it only possible) for a participant to be distracted with parallel activity; I think there’s been movement in some companies to ban Blackberries from conference rooms for this reason. On other hand, it would also be regarded as pretty outrageous to spend a meeting randomly grilling your peers or subordinates about some memo circulated beforehand.
That is to say, our sense of what’s okay in the classroom is substantially sui generis, and cannot easily be justified on the ground that we are preparing students for something else. If we believe we are entitled to require participation, it’s because we have a sense of what classrooms in particular should be like, and that sense is worth defending against erosion only if we can do so in educational terms. I suspect that if we were convinced (as Rick is) that forbidding laptops or the internet was good for educational reasons, we could easily wedge that into our sense of professionalism.
2. I’m sympathetic to Rick’s approach — and, to a lesser degree, his application of it — but I think he makes it look too easy. The classroom atmosphere does have public good aspects (though if you told a student that participation was nonrivalrous, he or she might think you’re nuts). But there are other spaces in the classroom too. To make the point crudely, we may be right in compelling certain behaviors in the commons, but students may feel that certain policies inflate the commons to the point that it is creeping into their private tracts. And wondering why they can’t barbecue any more.
Posted by: Edward Swaine | Jun 12, 2008 12:10:20 AM
As I have noted in a previous post, I ban laptops in the classroom. But I do not believe that such policies, designed to improve classroom atmosphere, are “paternalistic,” any more than it is paternalistic for a fancy restaurant to require guys to wear jackets — because such behavior improves the atmosphere for everyone else. The classroom is a limited access commons, and the atmosphere in the classroom is a public good. Everyone benefits from having their neighbors be prepared for class, be attentive, and listen to every question as if it is personally addressed to them.’s behavior: Market-based libertarianism works no better here than with any other public good.
So my policies — cold-calling, forbidding laptops, etc — may be good or bad. But paternalism has nothing to do with the issue: If you take my class, I’ll force you to talk, prepare, pay attention, etc., for your neighbor’s sake, not for your sake — and vice versa.
Posted by: Rick Hills | Jun 11, 2008 9:48:53 PM
Professors, listen to your students!
I watch the students as I teach, and I correlate their interest, attention, inattention, surfing, and yawns with the manner in which I am presenting material. And yes, their interest and participation has a positive correlation with how thoroughly I have prepared a lesson. Thoroughly preparing a lesson is very different from thoroughly knowing the material.
Students deserve good teaching.
Posted by: adjunct | Jun 11, 2008 9:13:01 PM
The anon comment is right on. This is largely a respect issue, and perhaps secondarily a knee-jerk response on behalf of those who once did things different and can’t imagine a reason to change.
In many ways I’m most surprised how open professors are with their disgust of how their customers are spending their time. I view the argument as little more than a recycled version of “when I was in law school…”
Perhaps the biggest elephant in the room is that testing does little to punish those who browse in class. Professors should focus their attention on making sure their tests actually test what they believe is important. My suspicion is that many are less than confident in that regard.
Posted by: anonymous | Jun 11, 2008 8:54:40 PM
I have to agree that it is not the professor’s place to worry about my personal diligence. I mentally divide professors up into groups: grownup, and otherwise.
The only about surfing the net in particular is that when someone does it and they are sitting in front of me, I’m slightly distracted, especially if they are flicking from page to page and carrying on an IM conversation simultaneously. It is astonishing how fascinating it can be just to watch how someone types or clicks.
Just make them sit in the back of the room, then–if you must–cold call one person in the back row per class. Otherwise, pay attention to the students who are paying attention to you and paying for your instruction.
By babysitting you are taking away from the students who are diligent and giving the time and attention to the students who are not. How is that fair?
Posted by: sobi | Jun 11, 2008 8:37:50 PM
I find all of this discussion endlessly insulting. Do you really think people who got into law school really can’t weigh the OBVIOUS costs and benefits of paying attention in class or surfing the internet? … Really all of this discussion is about professors wanting respect, and for people to pay attention to them. If you are a good professor who makes class interesting then you will find you don’t have to worry about this. Students are paying good money to go to law school, it is not your responsibility to be their nanny.
Posted by: anon | Jun 11, 2008 7:38:51 PM
Some classes feel like a junior high detention. In those classes I surfed/worked on other projects. Others are engaging and interesting. In those, I didn’t. As an adult (and a parent and someone with at least as much real world experience as most professors [though neither of those are necessary conditions]) I can weigh the advantages of my choices just fine on my own.
Is there any objective data that shows a decline in the performance of law students since the introduction of laptops and internet access to the classroom? Lower bar passage rates maybe? Because I think professors overrate the raptitude of the previous generation’s attention.
PS – Cold calling, while a tradition with some legitimate application, is used as an attention crutch by many profs who are unprepared or just poor educators.
Posted by: Larn Mearadle | Jun 11, 2008 12:29:16 PM
I like this way of thinking about how to justify this in the phase of nanny/paternalism objections. But I am starting to be convinced that the only effective way to stop surfing is cutting off internet access, to the extent that is technically feasible, which it is not at many schools. Cold-calling may not work, because students use IM to feed the answers to the person on the spot. Giving an incentive to volunteers (class participation as part of the grade) does not work, because many students would still rather surf than engage. Absent technology that can cut-off access, the only solution is the drastic step of banning laptops from the classroom.
Posted by: Howard Wasserman | Jun 11, 2008 12:13:15 PM
I think this is for the best. I would add, and this seems to be a common complaint among most of my classmates, that internet usage is inversely proportional to how interesting the class is. Professors who take time in preparing their lessons (yes, we can tell) are likely to have apt, engaged students, even if there is no cold calling going on.
I’d hate to lay the blame solely on professors – obviously the wonders of the internet are incredibly distracting regardless of the class. But you can’t ignore the fact that lazy or unengaging teaching contributes a lot to the problem.
Maybe it’s not fair that we students have a certain sense of entitlement as to surfing the web – “We’re paying $40K a year for this, I think we can also decide to surf the web” – but I think that in the end the final exam is probably going to show who paid attention and who played minesweeper.
Posted by: Kevin Larson | Jun 11, 2008 9:52:51 AM