Instructional Design and EdTech ePortfolio

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Moving to Boston to start working on campus

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I’ve been working in edtech at BU for the past six months, having started remotely last January. Exactly five years after I arrived in DC, on the 4th of July, I moved to Boston. Three days later my office ID was activated and I sat at my work desk for the first time.

Like many higher ed institutions, BU called on its faculty, staff, and students (insert link) to return to campus this fall semester. Faculty and staff at the medical campus where I work meanwhile started to return this July. This could provide a preview into how offices might look like for Charles River Campus and perhaps other campuses as they open in a few months and as we emerge from the pandemic, barring any pockets of outbreak.

As a university staff member who started my job remotely, I may not have a full idea of how the “before times” looked like in my new workplace. Despite this, as I and the rest of our department’s staff prepared to report to work in-person, we’ve met to discuss and anticipate anxieties and adjustments in our shared work space. Our instructional technologists, in fact, have been coming to work since July 2020 to provide on site tech support to faculty in classrooms and conference rooms. Implementing social distancing back then was more manageable with fewer staff coming to work and working in shifts. 

There are no in-person meetings yet as some faculty and staff are still working remotely, or at least not yet ready to meet in-person. Thus, Zoom is still the default mode of communication. And in our shared workspace, hearing my colleagues’ voices live and then on my earphones a microsecond later is slightly off-putting. Meanwhile, in other virtual meetings, my mic can pick up conversations happening around me. On the flipside, I hear my colleagues’ Zoom conversations while I’m trying to focus on my work. On my second week, one colleague I’ve only met on Zoom called out my name to say hi, and because she only saw my back, she did not notice I was actually on a Zoom call. I just waved at her, and pointed to my computer screen filled with faces and names in rectangular boxes.

In a Zoom meeting, we thought about ways to address these missteps and inconveniences by setting new norms in shared spaces. One colleague suggested putting up red Post-its or cups, like an analog “On Air” sign to minimize distractions. But this does not solve the noise leakage from others and me. Another potential solution is to conduct the Zoom calls/online trainings in an empty conference room or private booth like those found in co-working spaces. This presupposes working on a laptop that’s portable to use from one workspace to another. Fortunately, trainings I’ve conducted have coincided with my work from home schedule.

It’s my first time to wear masks indoors for an extended period of time, and breathing is unpleasant. To cope with this, I bring extra masks to replace it when it starts to feel grimy, and I take periodic breaks and step out of the building to get some fresh air – the pandemic version of a non-smoker’s cigarette break.

Because of the nature of my work, I’m somewhat privileged to have a hybrid work arrangement, from home on some days and in the office on others, a good balance that keeps my schedule interesting. Whether it’s the most efficient way to work is still a question that needs to be answered, considering most of my tasks are doable online, though this might change as more classes are held on campus. I technically work under the IT department, which has a longstanding remote work arrangement, and has since been reinforced by the President’s university-wide policy. At the moment, I have no fixed schedule, but for sure we (in my smaller team) will have a better sense of on-site support necessary as more faculty, staff, and students return to campus.

Looking beyond a few months or even weeks to what offices will be like is challenging. It seems for every proposal on new ways of working or office adaptation, there seems to be an equivalent and unintended difficulty or disruption. It’s a constant reminder that we are still in the middle of a pandemic, and that we shouldn’t let our guard down.

For many, returning to the office means dusting off keyboards and seeing familiar faces again. Having started work remotely, I feel a deja vu of sorts, that I’ve met my colleagues from somewhere. Amid mask mandates, weekly nasal swabs, and daily symptom attestations, whether coming back to campus after over a year or stepping in for the first time, everyone is trying their best to give our work and life a semblance of normalcy, even as we struggle to define what normal is.

What the US elections taught me about higher ed and learning

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Electoral college? Swing states? Primaries? What about a caucus? These terms did not make sense to me as someone who grew up in the Philippines, where the electoral system is based on the more straightforward popular vote. Despite having lived in the US for a total of over six years and through three presidential elections – and in Washington, DC, at that – I have only observed the country’s complicated politics from the sidelines.

But the socio-political tumult in the last four years and even more so in the last few months, having to stay home due to the pandemic, and the past week’s protracted ballot-counting have forced me to pay closer attention to American politics. Also, I caved in to finally having a television as a friend lent me a flatscreen TV last month. 

Back in November, I had one course left in my graduate program in learning design, and should have been focusing on how to use and manipulate the Viterbi algorithm for an introductory course in natural language processing. Instead, I was transfixed by TV, news websites, and Twitter since the election day, like the rest of the nation and perhaps the world, occasionally tweeting my own take on the election to cope with our collective anxiety. With my background in instructional design, and the amount of time I spent in front of screens big and small – consuming content on counties and paths to victory – I’ve been thinking a lot about my own learning behavior and wondering how to turn the momentous event into an educational opportunity.

Adapting the credential system

Traditional education systems work by requiring students to register for courses at the start of the semester. These are predetermined subjects that count toward one’s program of study. The opportunity to learn adjacent intellectual interests may be pursued through electives and independent research studies, often in later semesters or years. For good reason, students give priority to officially registered for-credit courses because they will be assessed and receive a grade according to their performance in them. This often relegates to the sidelines any spontaneous and serendipitous topics that pique students’ interest during the semester, only to be pursued during one’s free time, or worse, dismissed altogether so they can focus on more pressing assignments and deadlines.

Educational institutions should adapt the traditional credit system to accommodate these spontaneous learning opportunities. This would encourage self-directed learning among students. What differentiates this “freelective” from independent study is the flexibility to choose what to study based on ideas students encounter at any point during the semester or the academic year, and earn credentials toward their degree as they and the faculty see fit. Learning should not be constrained by the calendar and administrators’ convenience, only starting in late August and January, and ending by December and May. In November, students were in the final stretch of the fall semester, or in my case, my graduate program, with no leeway in earning credits to officially document learning. On the brighter side, ePortfolios can showcase students’ academic and extracurricular projects, which universities and potential employers now consider as valid evidence of learning. 

Remote learning by remote control

Campus closures due to the pandemic and the subsequent shift to online learning have further limited students’ physical and intellectual spaces for discovery. I have been glued to my phone and TV, especially this first week of November in the lead up to the Election Day and the ballot counting that never seemed to end. Only after spending many hours watching political analysts did I become familiar with the location of each state, capital, and even the county to which it belongs. While the whole nation was gripped with anticipation to learn the results in the swing states, I soon found myself googling how they have voted in the past presidential elections. This taught me how people’s voting tendencies sometimes hinged on the candidate despite their party affiliation. Meanwhile, determining candidates’ winning paths was a virtual exercise on probabilities. I also learned how nuanced US politics can be where people can vote for a Republican state legislator and a Democratic president. Perhaps most importantly, I better understood the history of voter suppression, another much-contested battleground in this country’s democracy.

Watching the live broadcast was akin to attending large lectures via Zoom. Though listening to repetitive punditry may not be the most efficient way to learn, the piecemeal release of results allows us to process the information, and seems to be a better experience than watching a lecture recording. Moreover, Steve Kornacki and John King with each tap and swipe on their Magic Walls gave a masterclass on the use of digital technology and data visualization. Faculty could assess student learning through reflections that critique political structures, compare and contrast electoral systems and processes, or delve into media literacy and misinformation.

Significant events such as the pandemic and the election have brought forth disruption as well as opportunities for innovation in higher education institutions and the way we learn. We should address that students’ interests wax and wane over time, and by experimenting with more flexible administrative procedures, we can reinforce discovery and learning that is not tethered to the academic calendar. We could further draw inspiration from connectivist and multimedia learning by identifying potential sources of knowledge and information that are salient, and timely, and accessible.

CNN was playing in the background as I started writing this piece. Joe King had just updated the latest vote count in Philadelphia on his Magic Wall, and Wolf Blitzer just called the presidency for Joe Biden. Americans seemed ready and passed the final exam.

Moving to online learning after spring break

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A week has passed after spring break, but none of my classmates, professors, and other staff has set foot on campus again, not only in Georgetown, but in many if not all colleges and K-12 schools all over the US, maybe even the world.

Transitioning to online classes shouldn’t be a struggle. I’ve had work from home and remote work arrangements before. And our classes – part of a graduate program in learning, design, and technology – are not foreign to remote and virtual learning environments. Online learning should be coming naturally, both in theory and practice. Just last week, I sent in a mid-term paper on online learning and Biesta’s purposes of education.

But there I was missing assignment deadlines and appreciating the fact that some of my professors have dialed back on assigning readings this past week. Perhaps it was from finishing a paper over spring break. Or more likely, I’ve put priority on shadowing colleagues as we held office hours during work days for faculty. Then I picked up shifts for office hours to assist faculty move their teaching online and work their way around Canvas and Zoom, via Zoom.

I didn’t plan to work over the break, having looked forward to it only three weeks in the new semester. But I saw it coming. My office has been holding meetings days before the break, bracing for the onslaught of this monstrous wave, watching it from the opposite shore as it approached our way. It arrived by way of an email from the university president, first for a couple of weeks, and later for the rest of the semester.

Most faculty will have taught their first classes post-spring break by now. The classes are by no means expected to be perfect versions of their classroom counterpart. Debates are still going on in education institutions whether to shift to pass or fail, synchronous or asynchronous, or whether to continue or stop teaching altogether in this unsettling time. 

I looked forward to my classes this past week, a welcome diversion that gave me the slightest sense of normalcy, where for a couple of hours we were able to gather and see familiar faces to talk about learning, higher education, education technology, their confluence and multifaceted challenges, as we have been doing in the past seven months. It wasn’t much of a form of escape. It was a short circuit in our graduate program, and the world, as we are now living through the very topics and challenges in higher ed that we have been discussing all along.

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