Motivating:
My first year physics professor was a very inspiring lecturer. He modelled his lectures on The Feynman Lectures on Physics and, at the same time, incorporated some measured active learning techniques into his classes. It was at the end of that course that I knew I wanted to pursue an academic career because it was apparent—even to me and the other 18-year olds in the course—that science was a driving passion for him.
Another mathematics professor who taught me in my third year inspired me in a different way. It was a course on continuum mechanics—a course that held not much interest to me—but it was his field of research. I had not spent enough time studying for the first midterm due to, well, looking for an apartment after troubles with my housemates and other distractions. The midterm came back with the comment “I had expected better!” written under the score (75%). For an instant, I felt annoyed, but I immediately reconsidered. I realised that he was giving me a kick in the back-side to push me to achieve my potential. I respected his integrity for believing in me and resolved to stop slacking. After that, I became much more aware of how much effort teaching involves and was compelled to match my professors’ efforts in all my classes (even if their efforts were not obvious).
Overall, though, I have to say that my perception as an undergraduate was that the professors felt that the student’s motivation was the student’s own responsibility. I have peers in the professoriate who declare the same thing today (I don’t agree, especially after doing the reading). I suspect that, like many people who do eventually pursue PhDs, my intrinsic motivation probably made me an outlier. I did learn quickly that, on some occasions, getting through the course was something I had to do in spite of the professor (rather than because of the professor’s help).
Demotivating:
The demotivating aspects of my student experience were largely due to the social environment of the classroom rather than any particular pedagogical mistakes the instructors made. I’m not sure what the following stories say about me. I warn you that it’s going to read a bit like therapy, but here goes nothing.
There were a few senior male professors at my institution with lecherous tendencies. The female students had their own networks to look out for each other. Regardless, the women in classes taught by these individuals were noticeably uncomfortable. It was distressing for me to learn from my female friends of indiscreet and unprofessional behaviour from older men who should have been role models to me. It was always subtle and I guess nobody felt able to do anything (particularly to tenured profs). Regardless, those classes were really poisonous for me (to say nothing of what it must have been for my female peers).
Another particularly demotivating experience I had was in a Numerical Analysis class (which, ironically, ended up becoming my area of research). The instructor was a visiting professor from Africa; the students complained unconstructively about his accent and actively sought ways to blame him for their performance. His English was actually reasonable to me; his accent could be understood if given a chance. He diligently photocopied and distributed his written notes in class (which was rare in those days). Being an immigrant myself and from South Asian ancestry, I am particularly sensitive to knee-jerk “Why doesn’t everyone just speak English like we do?” attitudes. I stopped attending class because I could not handle the bigoted attitudes of many of my peers. On occasion, the African professor would see me in the hallway and ask me where I’d been (which made me feel incredibly guilty because he was a very kind and soft-spoken gentleman). Anyway, this class experience was severely demotivating, but it didn’t stop me from eventually pursuing this area in my doctoral studies.
Looking at these two examples, it seems clear that I was demotivated by my perception of unfairness. Admittedly, it was unfairness relating to social injustice (to the students or to the professor, I guess) rather than marks. I also think I still feel ashamed of my own lack of action and insecurities about how to deal with those circumstances.
Oddly, I have to say that, when I was a student, I never felt particularly demotivated by concerns about marks or the academic structure of the course. I didn’t think much about the fairness of marking; I always felt embarrassed and petty to challenge marks, assuming that I just got the mark I deserved.
On-line:
The issues of motivation in on-line teaching are, I think, similar to those in face-to-face teaching. In Software Carpentry, with the current model of delivery, we have a self-selected for cohort of students who are motivated to learn more computing because they have discovered a need for it to do their work. If we ever get so successful that it becomes a mandatory part of some accredited degree program, I suspect we will face the same issues we face in large enrollment undergraduate courses at many universities.
With regard to my particular demotivators, I think (perhaps naively) a number of things have improved over the last 20 years. The increasing diversity of students and professors makes my story seem really dated. Okay, I know the representation of women in mathematical science type of fields is still not huge, but the environment I perceive for young women at institutions I’ve taught at is more positive than it was when I was a student (again, I may be completely out to lunch here). Anyway, I guess I think that on-line learning has given people opportunities to form relationships that mitigate some of our traditional conflicts of identity politics.
Time:
I spent about 2 hours reading and 2.5 hours writing this week. I’ve got to get more efficient at this…