Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once wrote, “Great is the art of beginning, but greater the art is of ending.” Faculty members practice this “art of ending” every semester as they conclude the courses they teach. Like the finish line of a race, the last day of
Curricula evolve. Disciplines shift. Programs respond to changing professional expectations and emerging competencies. In higher education, we give much attention to launching new courses and revising degree requirements. Far less attention is given to the other side of the process: how to conclude a course
We have all been there: sitting alone with a microphone, narrating slide after slide, wondering whether our students feel a connection to the person behind the screen. In online pedagogy, research tells us that social factors such as instructor presence are a key driver of
A senior colleague mentioned to me recently that he had spent the early part of his career overcoming the idea that “teaching is telling,” a common and pernicious misconception, especially among new teachers. The phrase refers to the belief that the key to effective teaching
At the end of a course, students complete many things. They submit final papers, deliver presentations, and take exams. We calculate grades. From a faculty perspective, the course is finished.
There’s a lot of discussion in higher education about “AI literacy” and the need to teach it but less clarity about what AI literacy really is. Once we understand what AI literacy is, we will see how and why we need to teach it.
Do a little recon when courses begin next semester. Is there an empty classroom nearby? That vacant space is pure pedagogical potential, and it’s a shame to let it sit unused. Here are five ways that I use that spare room to level up my
Think back to your first year as a college student. In September and October, you were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, walking in with a fresh stack of notebooks, organized notes, color-coded highlighters, and every intention of being the student who stayed ahead. For the first few
Online instructors often worry that strong teaching presence requires constant availability—rapid responses, frequent check-ins, and an always-on posture that quickly leads to burnout. In asynchronous courses, especially, presence can feel like a time-intensive commitment layered on top of an already full workload.
“But time to think? If you’re not driving a hundred miles an hour, at a clip where you can’t think of anything else but the danger, then you’re playing some game or sitting in some room where you can’t argue with the four-wall televisor .
