Advice: stay focused in class

This post is for all you students out there. Have you ever done any of the following?

1. Surfed the net, watched Youtube videos or played a computer game, etc., while the lecturer's droning on about who knows what.
2. Did stuff mentioned in point 1 but still listened to the lecturer because you work better when multitasking.
3. Did work for one class in another class.
4. Fallen asleep in class. As in literally fallen asleep. Snoring, drooling, Z's floating above your head.

I'm sure it comes as no surprise that my advice on all of the above is: don't do it. Let me address each point separately.

1. Electronic distractions

Pretty much every student that I catch not paying attention in class due to surfing, playing a game or having a long WhatsApp conversation would immediately stop what they're doing (usually with a guilty, sheepish expression), so it's clear that they know that they shouldn't be doing it. And yet, most of them go back to distracting themselves after 5 minutes, and I can only nag them so many times.

I really need to listen to what the lecturer is sayi...

I assume that all students want to score well in examinations, (and, more importantly, use the concepts taught when they encounter it in practice in the future). Many students tell me that they plan to read up on the topic themselves later. To these students I ask, why not figure out the concepts now, when the lecturer is explaining the concepts and is available for questions, and do all your surfing and game playing later?

I don't buy the excuse that "I'm not in the mood to learn right now, I'll learn better later when I'm ready." I don't know about you, but I'm a lazy procrastinating bum. If I'm not forced to sit my butt in a classroom for lessons, I'm honest enough with myself to know that I'm likely to never do it on my own. Hmm, do I play a computer game, go out with my friends, or read a textbook on class diagrams? Decisions, decisions.

Besides, you knew your timetable beforehand. You know you've got 3 hours of lessons tomorrow morning. Make yourself ready. Trust me, it's easier this way, and you get to goof off on your own time without a nagging lecturer glaring at you.

2. Multitasking

While I always reserve the possibility that I'm wrong, I strongly suspect that people who say that "I work better when multitasking" are talking out of their behinds. Seriously, I don't think human brains work that way. Yes, I know that studies have shown that listening to music can help you study. However, note that it helps you study, as in "revise stuff you've already learnt." However, I doubt that playing a computer game while the lecturer is talking can help you learn stuff that you don't yet know. Trust me, I play computer games, and when I'm really into a game, nothing else penetrates my skull. The same applies to reading 9gag, watching NigaHiga or any of the other various distractions.

I worry about these students because, unlike the ones in point 1 above who feel guilty about not paying attention, they are rationalizing their actions by saying that they actually perform better. If you regularly multitask during lessons, um, stop it? Listen to your 'cher. Try focusing on the lesson fully, and I promise that you'll learn better.

3. Doing work from another class

This one I understand. There are two occasions when this happens most frequently: when the students have just left another class and are still discussing topics from that class, and when there's a looming deadline. However, I still try to put a stop to it because they're just replacing one problem with another. Here's a conversation I had recently with a student who was doing Developing Web Applications (DWA) homework in my OOAD class:

Me: Are you doing DWA work?

Student: Yes.

Me: In OOAD class.

Student: Uh, yes...

Me: So, do you do OOAD work during DWA?

Student: Uh...

Me: Do you see the problem?

In emergency situations with a looming deadline, sometimes there's no choice. This means that you're suffering the consequences of poor time management (that assignment to be submitted in 2 hours should have been done much earlier), and the only thing you can do is to plan it better next time. Most of the time, though, focus on the class you're in, not the class you're not. Otherwise you'll just be doing catch-up all the time.

4. Falling asleep

I've had students fall asleep in class. My insecure ego thinks, "jeez, am I really that boring? I'm a terrible teacher!", and then when I wake the student up for an explanation, they invariably tell me that they just slept late.

Here's a radical idea: sleep early. Seriously. You can say no to that DOTA game that will last until 3am if you know that there's a lesson at 10am the next day. And if your friends insist, tell them off. Please. You're a student whose only responsibility is to learn. Take your responsibilities seriously.

I was really tempted

And don't get me started on the students who come to class late because they woke up late...

Listen, I understand. I've done similar things back when I was a student, all except actually falling asleep. Of course, this was back in the dark ages before the Internet (jeez I'm old). But yeah, I doodled, played countless games of tic-tac-toe and Hangman with my friends, and did all sorts of things to stop my brains from leaking out of my ears during particularly boring lectures. And let me tell you, I did get dangerously close to falling asleep on several occasions.

However, I always try to ensure that I understood the concepts taught before I goof off. I read ahead in the slides and took a look at the tutorial questions to see if I could answer them. If so, I relaxed. If not, I listened. I also took notes (I prefer writing notes on a piece of paper rather than typing them in a Word document) and asked questions, which kept me alert, attentive and awake. If I had Internet access when I was a student, I would be Googling concepts as the lecturer talked about them to gain a better understanding. That would be a good use of multitasking.

In summary, when you're in class, commit to it. You're there to learn, and you're responsible for your own education. And if you're anything like me, you'll enjoy yourself so much more when you goof off after a tough day of lessons because you're patting yourself on the back for a job well done.

Image sources:
http://i473.photobucket.com/albums/rr91/Mjr162006/Squirrels/squirrel-up-dog-gif.gif
http://mrjgoyeneche.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/social-media-multi-tasking.jpg
https://imgflip.com/memegenerator

The case for in-house projects

In order to graduate, every ICT student has to go through either an internship or an in-house project. This semester, for the first time, I am supervising two in-house (IHP) project students; I have only supervised internship students before.

Historically, most students prefer to go for an internship, for a variety of reasons:

• "Internship at IBM" sounds so much cooler on your resume than "Did a project in school."
• You get to experience an actual working environment and find out if you have what it takes to make it in the real world.
• Job offers at the end of successful internships are not unheard of. Having a job lined up before you have even graduated is a big deal. Of course, you have to perform really well for that to happen, but still.

Consequently, most students choose to apply for internships and will only do an IHP if they don't get accepted (naturally, the best students usually get accepted). This means that the majority of students who do IHP's are either the demoralized internship rejects or those who have failed some modules and have to stay in school to complete their coursework requirement.

For these and other reasons, IHP's have a bad reputation as a consolation prize for losers who couldn't make it to internships. Many IHP students lack confidence in their own abilities and constantly ask their supervisors what to do, treating their project like yet another module assignment. Others cruise through the entire 3 months watching Youtube videos, playing computer games and taking 4-hour lunches. Is it any wonder that internship students tend to outscore IHP students by three or four grades, on average?

Screenshot of actual submitted draft Project Charter. Apparently, IHP's are not the only ones with a bad reputation.

Guess what? IHP's are no worse than internships. They are worth the same number of credit units, and you can learn as much in an IHP as an internship (if not more). In fact, I would argue that they are better than internships in many ways, but only if you make the most of it. Here's how.

1. Pick or propose a project that interests you

When considering whether to bid for an IHP, really think about whether the project interests you. Lots of proposed projects are all kinds of cool, like creating a system to help patients with their physiotherapy, or doing data analytics to identify at-risk students - these are projects with real applications, not just something mundane that helps a company eke out a bit more profit. Alternatively, most supervisors will allow you to propose an appropriate project, so you get to define what you're going to do. Therefore, you can pick or propose something that really interests you, and you really, really should.

To me, this is the main advantage of an IHP over an internship. If you go to an internship and you're told to do boring data entry every day, you're stuck with it. In IHP, you can do what you want to do, not what the company requires you to do.

Well, within reason. Listen to your supervisor's advice on the feasibility of your proposed project. It's your supervisor's job to make sure you don't bite off more than you can chew; you're not going to be able to make an MMORPG in 3 months, for instance. But don't immediately reject a project idea that you don't immediately know how to do, because you should also:

2. Challenge yourself

Unless you really want to sell T-shirts online or something, don't touch that e-Commerce website project with a 10-foot pole. In ICT, you have modules like Databases, Developing Web Applications and e-Commerce Application Development that teach you a lot about how to make an e-Commerce website, so why on earth would you want to make one for your IHP? You've already made several in your module assignments.

When evaluating IHP's, we lecturers do take degree of difficulty into account. If what you end up with is essentially the same as your module assignments with a new coat of paint, then you're not going to score. The only e-Commerce website projects that get an A have to be spectacular, with lots of features that weren't explicitly taught in class.

Here's an open secret: what you learn in ICT will probably become obsolete pretty quickly, because technology moves so rapidly that the factual knowledge you acquire may be replaced by something else entirely in a few years. In fact, the most valuable skill you will get from a polytechnic education should be the ability to learn new stuff quickly, and this is one of the things that we're evaluating in an IHP.

So go ahead and learn a new programming language. Create that networked real-time mobile game app that puts Flappy Bird to shame. You've got 3 months to find out what you need to know. If other people can do it, why can't you? 

3. Do something you'll be proud to show off

Here's another advantage of IHP over internships: they generally don't have any issues with non-disclosure agreements. While "Internship at IBM" sounds good on the resume, it's hard to distinguish yourself from all the other IBM interns. On the other hand, if you design and implement a cool new system, that's something you can show off to prospective employers.

Let me put it this way. Would you rather be the guy who says "I interned at IBM. I did a lot! I can't show you anything due to the NDA, but you can trust me, right?", or the candidate who says "I developed a mobile app to help colour blind people identify colours to help them in their daily lives - and here it is!"

"...and here is a Straits Times newspaper article with my picture on it. Any questions?"

On the flip side, don't be the one who says "I spent 3 months working full-time and all I made was a cookie-cutter e-Commerce website." Do something you can be proud of, and employers will be glad to hire someone who can achieve something remarkable on their own with limited supervision. 

4. Treat it like an internship

One of the reasons that internships tend to score better then IHP's is the fact that internship students are forced to follow the corporate culture. They have strict working hours, a dress code, deadlines and real-world constraints (like dealing with customers, which can be a special kind of hell). IHP's, on the other hand, are a lot less closely monitored. There is not much to keep you from playing games for half the day and take 3-hour lunches.

My advice is don't, just don't. Treat it like an internship. Come to school by, say, 9am, leave no earlier than 5pm, and put in a full day's work every day. Make schedules and give yourself short-term targets to aim for. Break your project down into features, map out how long each will take, add a buffer for contingencies, and stick to the schedule. If you need the database up and running by the end of the week, make sure it's up and running even if you have to work overtime. After all, that's how deadlines work in companies - you finish your work no matter what. If you expect to get grades similar to internships, then you have to hold yourself to similar standards (okay, maybe not the dress code part).

In many ways, sticking to a schedule is much more challenging in an IHP than in an internship. At a company, everyone there is acting professionally and doing work because if they don't, they get canned. During an IHP, you may be surrounded by friends playing 2048, showing you the latest trending Youtube video and inviting you to extended tea-breaks every day. The next thing you know, it's 4pm on Friday and all you've written is public static void main(String[] args){ }. Don't let that happen to you.

BTW, if you manage to finish the job that you planned to complete by Friday on Thursday, go ahead and goof off with a couple of hours of DOTA. Just be honest with yourself and don't give yourself an easy schedule.

An IHP is an uninterrupted 3 months where you get to work on a project full-time. If you're about to take on an IHP, think about the amount of work you produced last semester over all your modules. Even if you take into account the time you need to acquire new knowledge by yourself, your IHP should still have a scope that is about two or three modules' worth of final assignments combined. If your project could conceivably be done by a Year 2 student in a couple of weeks under supervision, you're not doing enough.

Like I said, this semester I have two IHP students. One of them is helping to create a GUI for an ICT common test timetabling system, which will help produce better timetables for all students in ICT. The other has the opportunity to create his own game, including gameplay logic, graphics and AI. Even though neither of them are top students in terms of GPA, I sincerely believe that as long as they take the above advice to heart, they have every chance of getting an A+ for their IHP. Not only that, they'd have completed projects that they would be proud to call their own.

Image sources:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Challenge_Accepted_Rage_Comic.png
http://www.np.edu.sg/home/news/archives/2013/oct_dec/Pages/20131202_3_ictapp.aspx

Three little updates

It's been three months since I last posted a blog entry. Just so that my loyal readers don't think this blog is dead (um, any loyal readers out there?), I'm just going to tell you about three little things that have happened in my life recently. In descending order of significance:

3. I've been made Assistant Course Manager

Ngee Ann Polytechnic has been reviewing the organizational structure of the various schools, and there have been a few changes made. As a result, I have been given the new post of Assistant Course Manager for the Diploma in Information Technology, which means that I get to work with the Course Manager to improve the diploma and influence how things are run. This comes hot on the heels of my appointment as Section Head and Cluster Chair, so I'm going to have to print new business cards again. :)

In the short term, this new appointment doesn't mean much. I have a few more day-to-day responsibilities, but otherwise it's business as usual. In the long term, sooner or later (and it may very well be sooner) the Diploma in IT is going to have to go through a review. Modules may be revamped or replaced, teaching methods may change, and the entire course structure could be turned on its head. As the ACM, I will have a decent amount of influence on what changes will be made.

So if you're a Dip. IT student who has some ideas or opinions on the course, I will be happy to have a chat. Your ideas might very well benefit students in the future.

2. I've won the School Teaching Award AY 2013/2014

Woo-hoo!

Every year, NP recognizes the outstanding lecturers in each school. Students are first asked to nominate deserving lecturers. From these nominations, a number of them are shortlisted and asked to prepare teaching portfolios. A panel then goes through the portfolios, and then the award winners are determined based on the portfolios and other criteria (including peer recommendations and student comments). Well, this year the panel has seen it fit to confer the award on little ol' me. :D

This is a big deal to me. Egotistical me has always thought that I'm a pretty good teacher, but I have never won any sort of teaching award. After a while I start wondering whether it's all in my head. Maybe I'm an awful teacher, and the students who say that they like how I teach are just humouring me (or buttering me up for better grades). To finally win an award for teaching serves as a validation of my teaching philosophy and methods, so yeah, I'm inspired to continue teaching in the way I think is best. For those of you who hate how I teach, well, pbththththhth!

By the way, this blog played a big part. Like I said in my first ever post, I started this blog partly to supplement my teaching portfolio, and the portfolio I submitted included lots of links to various posts on this blog, silly jokes and all. Turns out the STA panel has a sense of humour. Who knew?

1. My wife is preggers

We're expecting our second child in September, so there's that.

So many questions!

When I teach, I punctuate my lessons with questions. Lots of questions. And I really mean a lot of questions.

Riddle me this: which of Schneiderman's 8 golden rules does this UI design violate? Muahahahah!

I'm sure I'm a pretty annoying lecturer to some students, because every few minutes I'll ask a question to the class and there would be this awkward silence as nobody has any idea what the answer is. Meanwhile, I would be standing in the front of the class with what probably looks like a self-satisfied smirk on my face and a holier-than-thou attitude, giving obscure hints and clues (usually in the form of more questions) until someone timidly ventures the right answer. I would congratulate the student on his brilliant deductive work and continue with the lecture, and then a few minutes later it would happen again.

I feel that asking questions is one of the best ways to keep a class engaged (or at least awake). They don't all have to be complex, thought-provoking head-scratchers. Even asking "any questions?" is helpful to give the students time to digest the new and possibly complex material just covered. Ideally, there should be a mix of easy and tough questions in every lesson to keep students at all ability levels engaged. 

Whom you pick to answer your questions is important. In every class there are a few students who are always eager to answer the 'cher and offer their views, but most of the class tends to be unwilling to answer questions, possibly due to the fear of answering incorrectly or just general shyness. In the first few lessons, I would try to involve as many students as possible when asking questions, but after a few weeks I can tell who are the ones who are happy to participate and who would shrink into a little shivering ball if I call on them to answer out loud.

And I don't force it, and I don't penalize those who are not answering in class. There are some modules that allocate perhaps 10% of the assessment to "class participation". Some lecturers interpret this as the willingness to speak up in class, and so they would not award these marks to those who do not actively answer questions. Personally, I think this unfairly penalizes the introverts, and let's face it, many students who pick IT as their career path would rather talk to a computer than human beings. Some of my best students never answer my questions in class; instead, they wait until after class to approach me privately if they have any queries.

My best classes return the favour by asking lots of questions themselves. These classes are a joy for me to teach, because (1) I get feedback that they are learning and thinking about the implications of what I'm teaching, and (2) I have a reason to stay alert rather than just droning on about something I've taught many times before. And when the questions come from both parties, what results is a conversation. Suddenly, the tension of a lecturer-student relationship dissipates somewhat, and the entire class generally becomes more open to the exchange of ideas.

This is always my worry in a quiet class

By the way, there will inevitably come a time when students ask a question to which you do not know the answer. Some lecturers make up an answer, and cross their fingers that the students never find out that they are talking out of their rear ends. Others pull the "go Google it yourself" or "you will find out when you work in the real world" stunt, which are non-answers posing as answers. My advice is to just own up and reply, "good question, let me find out and get back to you," and actually find out and get back to them. Far from thinking that you're incompetent, in my experience students will respect your honesty and appreciate your effort in following up on the query. Students are smart enough to know that nobody (not even a PhD) knows everything about everything. They are also smart enough to know when somebody is talking out of their rear end.

Any questions?

Image sources:

batman.wikia.com

www.9gag.com

memegenerator.net

I've got some new responsibilities

I was appointed Section Head for the Cloud Computing & Data Analytics (CCDA) section in April. At the same time, I was also given the post of Cluster Chair for the Analysis & Design cluster, which is part of CCDA. Since I am relatively new to the organization, I really appreciate my bosses' confidence in my abilities. It does feel like I've been thrown into the deep end a little bit, but I am eager to take up the challenge. Besides, how bad can the deep end be?

The deep end.
(Source: http://www.1000words.com.sg/words/images/2013/shark%20in%20pool.jpg)

So now I find myself with a bunch of new responsibilities. For example:

• We've just announced two new specializations, namely Cloud Computing and Data Analytics, and both of them fall under CCDA. I need to make sure the new modules for these specializations are properly designed and taught, and the first new modules may be offered as early as next April.
• Of course, I also have to ensure the smooth delivery of existing modules under the Analysis & Design cluster (there are currently eight of them).
• To achieve the above, I need to identify and assign lecturers for each module. If required, I must also arrange for them to receive training so that they keep their skills current. This probably requires a more sophisticated system than drawing names out of a hat.

All this really cuts into the time I have to goof off. It's now much harder to justify spending time at work playing games or watching youtube videos (um, not that I do those things anyway. Um.). Or updating my blog. Yeah, I'm making excuses for not updating this blog for weeks (sorry).

On the other hand, I suddenly find myself in charge of all the lecturers in my section because the Section Head is also the Reporting Officer (RO) for everyone in the section. I'm now the guy who will help decide their teaching duties, approve their leave, and conduct performance evaluations that could greatly affect their bonuses and promotion prospects. So... much... power! I won't let it go to my head, I promise.

Kneel, minions.
(source: http://www.ctzine.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/King-Joffrey-in-Game-of-Thrones-Season-2.jpg)

While I'm thrilled to be given these responsibilities, I have a problem. Even though I've been here for a year, I haven't had a chance to work directly with many of the people in my section. When you're not in the same teaching team or committee with someone, there isn't much to do besides say "good morning" as we pass each other in the corridors. Furthermore, every single one of the lecturers under my charge have been at ICT longer than I have, and some of them have been here much longer. At this point, the only things they know about me are (a) I've got a PhD; (b) I'm nuts about board games; and (c) I'm now, suddenly, their boss.

This problem has to be rectified as soon as possible. I have to get to know them well enough to make informed decisions about task allocations, and they have to get to know me well enough to feel comfortable about approaching me if they have issues or suggestions. To that end, I have organized a section meeting next week to break the ice.

And it will be an all-you-can-eat buffet lunch at a 5-star hotel restaurant sponsored by yours truly.

In case you're wondering, yes, I'm trying to get into their good graces by bribing them with food. I'm working under the premise that one is more inclined to listen to one's new boss if he's just filled your tummy with yummy out of his own pocket; after all, this tactic will work with me, but maybe that's because I'm a greedy pig. Oh, and I also invited my own RO to this shindig because a little brown-nosing to improve my own bonuses and promotion prospects doesn't hurt.

People management.
(source: http://www.sickchirpse.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/Wall-E-2.jpg)

My plan is to get everyone comfortable and relaxed and chatting. Come dessert, when everyone is chilling out over ice cream and chocolate fondue, I'll start the meeting proper by giving a bit of a speech that can be pretty much summarized as "I'm a nice guy, help me out, pretty please?" I will apologize in advance for bugging everyone with lots of silly questions and clarifications in the near future since it will take me some time to familiarize myself with all the modules under my charge. In the meantime, I will defer to their expertise in terms of how the modules are delivered, and I won't be making any huge sweeping changes just for the heck of it (so no, I won't be insisting on open-book exams for all modules). On the other hand, if anyone has any ideas to improve the modules, I'll certainly consider them.

I will also appeal for everyone's help to make the launching of the Cloud Computing and Data Analytics specializations a success. In particular, we need to send staff out to receive training in these relatively new fields so that there are enough lecturers to both design and teach the module materials. I am therefore looking for those who have some interest in adding these new skills to their arsenal (and curriculum development to their performance reviews). Volunteers also get a cookie.

I suspect this upcoming section meeting will have a major influence on the success or failure of my reign as Section Head (I feel like David Moyes). It's important to get off on the right foot, to clarify everyone's expectations and allay any doubts. My job is not to impose a bunch of policies and order people around, it's to get all the talented individuals I have in my section working together so that the modules are taught in the best possible way. It's a cliche, but it really is all about teamwork. In the end, all the lecturers in ICT care deeply about the students, and we all share the common objective of giving the students the best education.

Now if I can only stop myself from abusing my position...

"Thou Shalt Attend All Staff Bonding Tabletop Game Sessions! So Sayeth Thy RO!"
(Source: http://www.overthinkingit.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/heston_moses.jpg)

Classroom game: Werewolf

Last week, I was involved in an activity for the Ngee Ann Polytechnic Board Games Club (NPBGC). The idea was to host a game for a number of Asian Nursing students from non-English speaking countries like China, Vietnam and Myanmar. The students were divided into four groups of about 18 students each, and we had around 25 minutes with each class. Also, the game should promote communication in English (or whatever version of English we happen to speak in Singapore). Given these constraints, we pretty much immediately settled on running Werewolf.

It's clearly a family game.
(Image from http://boardgamegeek.com/image/1534745/ultimate-werewolf-ultimate-edition)

In Werewolf, the players take the roles of villagers. One morning, the villagers wake up and discover that the mayor has been murdered in the night. There are werewolves in the village! At the start of the game, every player is dealt a card that is kept secret from the other players. If your card says "villager", your aim is to kill all the werewolves before everybody gets eaten. If your card says "werewolf", your objective is to kill enough villagers until there are only as many villagers as werewolves, whereupon you rise up for an all-you-can-eat villager buffet with doggy bags. There is also a special villager called a "seer" who acts as a sort of spirit guide for the village (if she survives, that is). Finally, there is a referee controlling the action (i.e., me).

The game plays in alternating "Night" and "Day" turns. At night, all the players close their eyes. The referee then instructs, "werewolves open your eyes," so the werewolves know who their allies are on the first night. On any night other than the first, the werewolves would silently decide on one villager to kill (by pointing to her), and then they close their eyes again. The next instruction is "seer open your eyes and point to someone you wish to know about." When the seer selects a player, the referee silently indicates to the seer whether the player is a villager or a werewolf using a previously explained hand signal. Finally, the seer closes her eyes, and then day begins, whereupon the werewolves' victim is notified of her grisly fate.

During the day, the villagers get to select one among their number for lynching (isn't this game wholesome?). If a player is accused of being a werewolf and someone else seconds the accusation, then the accused gets about a minute to defend herself; here is where the ability to make a convincing argument (in English) could save your life. At the end of the defence, all the villagers vote simultaneously with either a thumbs up or a thumbs down to decide whether the accused gets to live; a majority "nay" vote and the villager is summarily executed by the mob, and then she reveals her role. If she's a werewolf, there're celebrations and congratulations all round; if she's a villager, then an innocent person has been killed by an unthinking mob, and the werewolves are that much closer to winning.

On the whole, the game was a success. At the start, I needed to prompt them a bit, but these Nursing students are a pretty canny lot and they picked up the strategies for the different roles very quickly. Early in the game, the defence put up by the accused is pretty weak (e.g., "I'm a kind person", "I'm a vegetarian", or, my personal favourite, "I am a villager"), and they're invariably toast. As the game progressed, the arguments became more elaborate and convincing. In one game, a particular student was accused twice and spared twice. Once, she saved herself by telling her accuser, "if I am a villager and you kill me, you should be killed next," which certainly gave everyone pause.

She was a werewolf. (Awesome!)

Werewolf is a combination of deduction and role-playing. If the aim is to help foster communication skills, it's  an excellent game if the referee is active in prompting for responses, e.g., "why do you think she's a werewolf?", "is that all you want to say in your defence? Remember, your life is on the line!" It's also just a fun game that is suitable for a classroom of around 20 people, just to bring people out of their shell.

Oh, and all you need to play Werewolf is a few slips of paper with the words "werewolf", "villager" and "seer" on them. The standard Werewolf is a public domain game, while Ultimate Werewolf pictured above provides cards for up to 68 (!!!) players along with several fun new roles.

Some other lessons learnt:

• Try not to be the only male in a class full of females. Twice, the sole male was the first on lynched. Coincidence?
• I should have put my cards in card sleeves for protection. Students tend to clutch the cards when they're excited, and I ended up with a bunch of crumpled cards. Not that I mind all that much - it's nice to see the students so emotionally invested in the game.
• Talking non-stop for two hours is hell for the throat, especially if you're trying to keep order in the midst of flying accusations. Fun, though.

My teaching style

In order to be successful at anything, you have to play to your strengths and downplay your weaknesses. Being an effective lecturer is no exception. There are several tried and tested styles of teaching that have been proven effective for other people. Unfortunately, none of them are entirely suitable for me.

For example, there is the disciplinarian. These educators lay down the ground rules along with the penalties for breaking them, enforce them strictly, and impress the students with integrity and fairness. The rules usually relate to professionalism issues like punctuality and in-class behaviour. When the students follow the rules, it creates an atmosphere that is conducive to learning. The best practitioners of the disciplinarian approach are also excellent communicators who are able to deliver their material in an engaging manner, so that eventually the students want to listen and following the rules is no longer a chore.

A classic disciplinarian educator. Notice the smouldering glare. Staring deep. Into your soul.
(source: www.imdb.com)

I am poorly suited to the disciplinarian approach. I'm just really bad at keeping a serious tone when scolding someone, so I'm not an effective scolder. It's also difficult to come up with a punishment that is proportional to the crime. Suppose a student is late; other than marking him absent, what else would be an appropriate punishment? Taking marks off seems too harsh, and barring him from the class defeats the purpose of getting him to learn. Me, I just pause the class and greet the tardy student as brightly as possible, and hopefully his classmates will heckle him a bit.

Another method is to be a dynamic educator, to come up with some interesting and innovative hook that keeps the students coming back for more. If you're an ex-marine, you could display your karate skills. If you're an award-winning stand-up comedian, you could teach MacBeth using your John Wayne impersonation. Or, if you're like one of the lecturers here at Ngee Ann Poly, you could entertain the students with magic tricks (seriously - and by all accounts, he's an effective and well-liked lecturer).

Dynamic educators. The fact that a student died in all three movies is probably a coincidence. Right?
(source: www.imdb.com)

Being a dynamic educator is pretty tiring because you need to constantly keep it fresh with new and engaging tactics. There are excellent lecturers who have a complete utility belt of tactics that they employ with ease, including the use of technology, activities, audio and visual materials, etc. I'm trying to be more dynamic in my teaching (e.g., by using games), but I'm not there yet.

Of course, it helps if you look like Sidney Poitier, Michelle Pfeiffer or Robin Williams. Me, I'm a 1.62m (5 ft 4 in) nerdy guy with glasses who looks barely out of puberty. Some educators overcome this problem by being an expert. The expert educator is an authority in the subject, and the students feel honoured just to have the opportunity to tap his wisdom. This works best if you've created a seminal work on the subject, or have a theorem or mathematical constant named after you, or had your life story made into a movie by HBO. Unfortunately, I'm just not that smart.

An expert educator. At everything.
(source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Stephen_Hawking.StarChild.jpg)

Therefore, I had to develop my own style of teaching, which I call the excited puppy. Allow me to explain.

One of the main elements of my teaching philosophy is to be enthusiastic when delivering the material. The idea is to try to show the students that the concept being taught is fun and exciting, thereby raising the energy levels of otherwise uninterested students who would much rather be scrolling through Facebook. I do this by giving examples of ways to apply the concepts to real-life situations so that the students can better imagine their applicability. Furthermore, I don't mind overselling the "coolness" of the material and making a bit of a fool of myself if it keeps my students' attention.

My inspiration.
(source: http://www.chumpysclipart.com/)

I suspect I take this tactic to extremes sometimes. I actually use the word "cool." I gesticulate in a way that justifies the use of the word "gesticulate". I have even been known to unconsciously perform a little hopping dance in the midst of a particularly enthusiastic exposition. A good friend of mine, Prof Michael Jahn, once said of my teaching style that "you are so enthusiastic when you teach that the students just get carried along for the ride." Or, as an amused and bemused Computing Mathematics student so succinctly put it last year, "why are you so funny?"

The excited puppy strategy suits me perfectly. My less-than-mature looks are actually an advantage, because if someone who looks like Lee Kuan Yew acted the way I do, it would look incongruous and possibly creepy. This strategy also provides a solution to my inability to scold people; instead of showing displeasure at a transgressing student, I show my disappointment. If I do it properly (I stop just short of actually giving a sad puppy whine), hopefully the student feels enough guilt that he'll correct his behaviour in the future. Nobody likes to disappoint an excited puppy.

"Was it something I did?"
(sources: http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/okay-guy; http://www.123rf.com/photo_10120743_sad-puppy.html)

In all seriousness, the way I teach is not a calculated tactic. This is simply the way I naturally act, and it just happens to have some benefits. I think the main difference between my teaching style and most other lecturers is the fact that I de-emphasize the teacher-student divide, i.e., I don't act like the boss of the classroom. I prefer to conduct a lesson as a collaborative effort, where everybody's working together to achieve the objective of learning the material. Nothing would make me happier than giving A-pluses to everyone, and I want the students to know that.

That's why I'm so "funny".

Classroom game: Wits & Wagers

At the end of my first Advanced Object-Oriented Analysis and Design (AOOAD) lessons back in October 2012, I divided the students into groups of 3 or 4 and played the party game Wits & Wagers:

Image from http://boardgamegeek.com/image/521431/wits-wagers

Wits & Wagers is a trivia game with a twist (you can get the official rules here). All the answers to the questions are in the form of numbers (e.g., In centimetres, how tall is Yao Ming?), and the questions are difficult or obscure enough that nobody is likely to know the exact answer. The participants try to guess a value that is as close to the correct answer as possible without going over, and they each write down their guess on a small erasable board,. The answers are then arranged in ascending order, and each answer is assigned a payout (e.g., 2:1 or 3:1); the highest and lowest guesses pay out more than the middle-of-the-road guesses.

Here's the clever bit: the participants then get to wager on up to two answers, and they don't have to bet on their own answer. If the answer you bet on is the closest without going over, you get the corresponding payout (the one who made the closest guess also gets 3 bonus points).

This game is essentially a multiple-choice quiz in disguise, except that the participants come up with the choices themselves. It also mitigates one of the main problems with trivia games, namely the tendency for the class genius to crush everyone else with his savant-like knowledge of trivia, because if you suspect that someone knows the answer, just bet on his answer. It's a really cool mechanic.

Like any trivia game, how fun it is depends heavily on the questions asked. Unfortunately, the questions that come with the commercial game are extremely USA-centric (will you guys go metric already???), so I came up with my own questions. I also spent some time coming up with a nice Powerpoint presentation with a ticking timer for the game (I had some problems with the sound effects though); you can download it here. The most boring question is probably Question 2, which is the only question that related directly to AOOAD, but hey, I had to toss a relevant question in there, right?

How did my students like it? Well, the response was generally positive I think. There were a few students who didn't really participate, but those who did seemed to have a good time. I might make a few changes if I do this again though. For one thing, I would allow more than 45 seconds for guessing and 30 seconds for bidding. I might also use the Wits & Wagers Party Edition rules instead, which simplifies the payout process.

All in all, the game did ok. I admit that it wasn't a great match for AOOAD, and would probably work better for a topic where more questions with numeric answers could be asked (e.g., math). I'm not teaching Computing Mathematics this upcoming semester, but I suspect Wits & Wagers would be a better fit there ("Given these 200 numbers, what is the mean? You have 45 seconds...").

Classroom game: Smarty Party

In the final tutorial session of the semester for my Advanced Object-Oriented Analysis and Design (AOOAD) classes, I decided to run a trivia game adapted from the commercial boardgame Smarty Party.

Image from http://boardgamegeek.com/image/72266/smarty-party?size=original

The rules are simple: I provide a category that describes a list (e.g., Best Picture Academy Award Winners 2000-2011). On their turn, each student (or team of students) has to try to name one item on the list. A student who makes a guess that is not on the list gets a number of penalty points. The sequence of penalty points is 3, 2, 2, 1, 1, 1, 1 (i.e., the first to miss gets 3 penalty points, the second gets 2, and so on). The round is over when there have been 7 misses or all items in the list have been guessed. The winner is the one with fewest penalty points at the end of the game.

For this game, I prepared a Word document with 5 lists. The colour of the text for the entries is white. When a student guesses an answer, I highlight the corresponding entry and change the text colour to black in order to reveal it. I also printed out the document so that I know which entry is which. Overall, the game took about half an hour.

The success of this game depends heavily on the categories chosen. I did my best to make sure the categories were age- and culture- appropriate because nothing is more boring than a trivia game where you don't know any of the answers, or worse yet, where you get crushed by some know-it-all. Even so, it turns out that not many of my students were movie buffs who knew about the Oscars ("no, the Fast and the Furious never won Best Picture"), so I'll probably replace that category if I run this again.

Because it's the final session for the semester, my objective was mainly to let the students have a good time, so all the categories were somewhat whimsical. I was particularly interested in the students' responses for the Teaching Award Winners category (these are second-year students) because it let me know whom they felt were good lecturers. I think some of the students were genuinely surprised that some of their favourite lecturers never won the Teaching Award. However, this game is one way that you can test the students' recall ability in class. You can conceivably ask nursing students for the warning signs of shock, or chemistry students for the first 20 elements in the periodic table. My advice, though, is to not have the entire game involve serious topics, because after the first couple the students will figure out that it's just a thinly disguised review exercise and lose interest.

For the record, the winners were...I honestly don't remember (any of my students reading this are welcome to remind me in the comments section). What I do remember is lots of laughter amid cries of "you stole my answer!" and good-natured ridiculing of desperate shots in the dark as the obvious guesses were taken. If nothing else, my students now know that the most viewed youtube videos are not necessarily the best ones. :)

Let's open those books!

A long-standing criticism of the Singaporean educational system, particularly at the primary and secondary school levels, is the prevalence of rote learning (a.k.a. "mugging" in Singaporean vernacular). Students memorize tonnes of facts and formulas and regurgitate it during their exams like so many Merlions. These students end up doing reasonably well in their standardized 'O'-level examinations, but they lack any deep understanding of the material.

This problem has been recognized by the Ministry of Education, and steps have been taken in order to address it (e.g., the Teach Less, Learn More initiative). Accordingly, one of the primary objectives of Ngee Ann Polytechnic is to produce well-rounded students with in-depth understanding of the material so that they can effectively apply them to real-life situations.

I taught two modules last semester, Object Oriented Analysis and Design (OOAD) and Computing Mathematics (CM). I observed that many students, following their tried-and-tested tactic of mugging, spent a significant amount of time memorizing facts and formulas without necessarily understanding them. For example, during study week I was called down to one of the classrooms before the OOAD exam to answer some queries by some of my students who have formed a study group. When I got there, they were in the process of reproducing the diagram for the Waterfall Software Development Life Cycle (SDLC) as given in the lecture slides:

The Waterfall SDLC. Actually, it's more accurate to say a Waterfall SDLC.

The students were memorizing the seven phases as depicted in the diagram. Not only that, they were memorizing the bullet points given in the slides that explain what each phase involves. Note that the Waterfall SDLC simply describes the method of organizing a project such that each phase is completed (together with the necessary documentation and safeguards) before the next phase begins. There is no one accepted "official" Waterfall SDLC in terms of what the actual phases are; the diagram above just happens to be the one given in our recommended textbook. Search "Waterfall SDLC" in Google Images and you'll find a dozen different depictions. Can you say, "missing the forest for the trees?"

Unfortunately, I can't blame the students. One of the questions in the exam asked for a diagrammatic explanation of the most appropriate SDLC for a case study along with explanations of the phases. Assuming the correct SDLC was identified, students who "mugged" the diagram and bullet point explanations would have scored full marks for that question. Students are nothing if not results-oriented, and mugging gets them results.

There were similar issues for the CM module. Students have to memorize and recall various formulas such as how to calculate variance and conditional probability during their exams, which distracts them from the task of understanding and applying said formulas correctly. Admittedly, people who are familiar with these formulas (such as us no-life lecturers) should be able to recall them without using a reference, but these are first-year students who have been introduced to many of these concepts for the first time. Why give them the extra burden of recall if the emphasis is on understanding?

Both of these modules have primarily closed-book assessments, and so are most of the modules in Ngee Ann. In fact, there seems to be an unwritten rule worldwide that assessments should be closed-book by default. However, for the purpose of promoting deeper understanding and lateral thinking, I am a firm believer of open-book assessments, where the students have access to reference material during the assessment. In fact, if possible I would let the students have access to the Internet, because most of them get their information from the likes of Google and Wikipedia anyway.

Let's examine some of the more common arguments for closed-book (and against open-book) assessments, shall we?

Argument #1: Sometimes you need to recall the facts instantaneously

This is a favourite argument for those who prefer to keep the reference materials away from students during exams. "Sometimes, when you are on the job, you don't have access to reference materials or you don't have time. Therefore, students should get used to not having reference materials." Frankly, I don't buy it.

Firstly, there aren't that many jobs where you can't take time out to check out your reference materials. We're living in an information age where most people bring the Internet along with them on their mobile phones or laptops, so Google and Wikipedia are just a tap or mouse-click away. Even if you're somehow unable to get an Internet connection, unless you happen to be studying how to defuse bombs, perform field surgery in a combat situation or juggle chainsaws, you can generally take the time to get to your reference materials.

Secondly, I seriously doubt that having closed-book exams prepares a student for on-the-job situations anyway. The ability to recall relevant facts comes mainly from repetition and frequent use, not from memorizing them for an exam. For example, I wrote a paper a couple of years ago where I proposed a heuristic for a rectangle packing problem, but I wouldn't be able to recall it now. On the other hand, I've been teaching UML class diagrams for the past two semesters, so I'd be pretty confident about coming up with a class diagram for any given system without using reference materials.

The point I'm making is that not allowing the students access to reference materials requires them to memorize facts that they could easily look up. This distracts them from the more important task, which is figuring out how to best apply the concepts in actual situations. Let them acquire the ability to do stuff unassisted when they're actually on the job, not when they're still learning the basics.

Argument #2: We should test students on their recall ability, which is impossible if the assessment is open-book

Closed-book exams allow recall-type questions, such as asking the student to provide a definition of a term or to reproduce a mathematical formula. The reasoning goes, "I would like to see if the student knows floozle, but if the exam is open-book, then the student can just copy from the textbook. By making it closed-book, I can ask for the definition of floozle to see if the student truly understands floozle." For a field such as law, where an accomplished lawyer should be able to quote a piece of legislation, this reasoning seems appropriate. But it's not.

There is no real benefit to being able to memorize and regurgitate, say, Section 205 Subsection 2 of the Singapore Copyright Act, not if you know how to find the relevant section if you were given the legislation document. The value of a good lawyer is in his interpretation of the law, and the same is true for other fields. Reproducing the definition of floozle does not show understanding of floozle, it shows the ability to memorize text.

So how would one test for understanding of a concept? Place the concept in a new context to see if the student is able to apply it correctly. Give him a scenario and ask him to evaluate the advantages and disadvantages of floozling as it relates to this particular scenario. This forces the student to apply the concept rather than simply recall it. Coincidentally, open-book assessments must necessarily consist of such application- or analysis-centric questions.

Argument #3: Students might spend too much time looking up information during the exam, time that would have been saved if it have been memorized

I've heard this argument before, and it's actually based on fact. I've observed that when some students have a stack of textbooks and notes with them in the exam hall, their OCD kicks in and they tend to spend an inordinate amount of time checking and re-checking their answers just to make sure that everything is correct. As a result, they might run out of time and not be able to complete the exam. 

This phenomenon is the result of the students not knowing how to best use reference materials; they are so used to mugging for closed-book exams that when the assessment is open-book, they don't know what to do. The ability to quickly find, parse, assess, analyze and apply reference material is an important skill to have, and it's a skill that many students lack. Therefore, rather than giving them closed-book exams so that they don't have to reference materials under time pressure, we should do the opposite. Let's give them a reason to acquire this skill. After all, students are nothing if not results-oriented.

Another issue with open-book assessments - financial considerations

Argument #4: Open-book exams are hard to execute

And herein lies the main reason for not having open-book assessments: in general, they're much harder to execute than closed-book assessments. For certain topics like math, this isn't such a big issue, but for other topics it's a major pain in the posterior.

When the students have access to external materials, you can no longer ask them straightforward questions like "define floozle" or "list all the types of floozle", or even "describe the advantages and disadvantages of floozles." Instead, all questions have to have some element of analysis and/or application, usually based on an example or case study. Such questions also often have multiple valid answers (that's the nature of real-life scenarios), so they're difficult to mark objectively.

Some of you may be thinking, "sure it's hard to do, but as conscientious and hardworking lecturers you should just suck it up and do it anyway." Well, this semester I'm the module leader for Advanced Object Oriented Analysis and Design (AOOAD) and I elected to make all assessments open-book. Let me tell you, creating the assessments was not easy, and marking them was even worse. There are only 33 students taking AOOAD in total, and for some of the class quizzes I received many different answers to certain questions. For each of them I had to evaluate if it was correct, and if not I still had to figure out a fair way to award partial credit. This rarely happened for the closed-book assessments of OOAD, simply due to the nature of the questions.

Extrapolate this issue over a module with larger enrolment (such as OOAD with about 150 students) and you can imagine the difficulties involved. True, a team of dedicated lecturers should be able to handle this with lots of sweat, toil and overtime, but the number of man-hours available is limited. Is it worth spending so much time creating and marking open-book assessments, or should we just use closed-book assessments and spend the time elsewhere?

In conclusion, I feel that open-book assessments should be seriously considered whenever possible. They teach students important skills such as how to use properly and efficiently use reference materials, de-emphasizes rote learning and emphasizes understanding and application. It's not easy, but if there is enough time and energy to execute it properly, I believe the benefits are substantial. The book vendors might thank you too.

How my AOOAD students addressed the financial issue

Or maybe not.

Why I love to teach

I confess: I love to teach. I'm one of those insufferable people who is actually happy with his job (well, the teaching part of it, anyway). This confession is going to cost me on my next salary review, isn't it?

But this post is on why I love to teach. Is it because I want to make a difference in people's lives, like Robin Williams in Dead Poets' Society or Michelle Pfeiffer in Dangerous Minds (but preferably without any of my students winding up dead)? Well, that's part of it. I'm an incurable idealist, and I do want to make a positive difference in the lives of my students. I would love to show my students the joy of programming or the wonder of an elegant mathematical solution, thereby fueling a passion for learning and creating the next Bill Gates or Steve Jobs.

On the other hand, teaching is by no means the only way you can make a difference. No, I don't mean that I could have been a doctor who saves lives, or a lawyer who upholds justice. More realistically, I could have been an IT professional who writes high-quality applications that help people do their jobs more efficiently every day. Heck, I could have been a bus driver and make a difference by brightening up the days of my passengers by being courteous and helpful. So while being a goody-two-shoes boy scout is part of the reason I love to teach, it's by no means my main reason.

Is it because I love what I teach? I do find joy in programming, in coming up with an elegant way to solve a problem using a computer. The enjoyment is a lot like what I get from playing a game or solving a puzzle. On the other hand, I often get assigned to teach topics that are not my first choice, like business statistics or object oriented analysis and design. Don't get me wrong - although these topics are not where my primary interests lie, I still enjoy teaching them. But if I could cherry-pick my modules, I'd pick programming modules every time.

Maybe I love interacting with students? Sort of, but not in the way you might think. According to my Myers-Briggs profile, I'm quite an introvert. I'm not the sort to enjoy noisy parties or go out to night club for drinks and dancing (and if you've seen me dance, you wouldn't want me along either). My preferred social interaction is to have a couple of close friends play a board game with me and my wife. So while I'm always happy to accept a new Facebook friend request from a student, I'd be just as happy if I could spend more time with the friends I already have.

So what's the real reason? Frankly, it's because I'm a big fat show-off. That's right, I'm one of those people who watches American Idol and thinks, "I'd knock everyone's socks off if I were to try out for that. If only I was American. And 20 years younger. And could sing."

It's just a happy coincidence that making the lessons entertaining is the best way to get the students to listen and learn. Every time I teach, I approach it like a mini-performance, and I get a thrill when my students respond to my teaching; I suspect the feeling I get when my students understand the material and do well in their tests is similar to what actors feel when they hear their audience's applause. And unlike performing in a show, the students aren't allowed to boo me.

Teaching is essentially a big ego trip for me, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. :)

First post!

Image from www.sgag.sg

Hi everyone, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Oon Wee Chong, and I am a lecturer at Ngee Ann Polytechnic, School of InfoComm Technology. The main purpose of this blog is to record my thoughts on what it's like to teach a bunch of 16 to 19-year-olds stuff like programming, system design and (gasp!) math. As you can imagine, teaching in a poly is not always easy. They're called Gen Y for a reason ("Do your work!" "But Y?").

Incidentally, I'm not going to restrict myself to only stuff about teaching, so there will also be posts on, well, anything that interests me. It's my blog and I can post what I want. :)

For the sake of full disclosure, this blog was started to fulfill the "Teaching Portfolio" assignment of my Professional Education and Training (PDE) requirement, which is a training course that every lecturer in Ngee Ann Polytechnic has to pass. Anyway, I've always wanted to start something like a blog so that I can archive all my random ideas, but haven't had the time or inclination to start. See? Assignments force you to do stuff, which is good for people like me who need a push every now and then.

Note: for the non-Singaporeans out there, "Poly" is short for "polytechnic", and "Cher" is short for "teacher", which is what many of my students call me. There is absolutely no connection to I Got You Babe.