Jan 032013
 

When I was a freshman in college one of the first history classes I took included a tour of the university’s main library and an introduction to its vast card catalog, the like of which none of us had ever seen. Our professor patiently explained the arcana of the Library of Congress subject heading system, showed us how a work might turn up in the catalog either by title, author, or subject heading, and then sent us off on a scavenger hunt through the thousands of little file drawers. By the end of our class period, each of us had the beginnings of a bibliography on the subject of our course.

That first foray into the world of real historical research was fun, overwhelming, and educational all at the same time. But it was also limited to secondary sources and was entirely limited to those works available in the university library.

How the history student’s world has changed.

Today our students are face to face with access to primary and secondary sources beyond count–quite literally tens of millions of primary sources and an equally large and growing corpus of scanned secondary works. My professors taught me in a pedagogical world based on scarcity. Today we teach in a world dominated by abundance.

Big data” is one of the “big ideas” of the current decade across many sectors of the information economy and historians and other humanists have already begun working on exciting projects [see also and also] that are helping us find ways to mine emerging super massive datasets of historical information. One maturing example is the Criminal Intent project funded by the NEH’s Digging into Data program (my colleagues Fred Gibbs and Dan Cohen are central players in this project).

As exciting as the Criminal Intent project and other similar data mining efforts are, they are currently operating at a level a bit to complex for the average undergraduate. Simpler data mining tools like Google’s NGram viewer offer a more frictionless introduction to data mining concepts. For instance, I’ve written about how undergraduates might use the NGram viewer to mine millions of words from the Google book database and begin to think about what sorts of historian’s questions might then come out of such a mining exercise.

Right now, today, getting much beyond these basic sorts of exercises with undergraduates will be difficult. But it is useful to remember that ten years ago it was not so easy to make a web page. Before too much longer the user interfaces for mining massive data sets of historical information — especially texts and images — will be appropriate for the undergraduate curriculum. That means it is already past time for historians to be thinking about how we can incorporate data mining into the undergraduate curriculum. Some interesting graduate syllabi have begun to appear, but data mining, whether text or image mining, seems to be largely absent from the undergraduate history curriculum.

Imagine, for instance, a course that begins with the simplest tools, such as Many Eyes or the NGram viewer, helping history students to see both the strengths and weaknesses of these tools. From there the course could move on to increasingly complex forays into data mining, letting the students range further and further afield as their skills grow. Our colleagues in computer science have already developed such courses, but such courses would need to be adapted heavily for them to work with history students who (mostly) lack the background in programming.

In my previous post I pointed out that incorporating “making” into the history curriculum gives us opportunities to build connections to other academic disciplines (art, engineering, graphic design). Data mining offers us similar opportunities (computer science, library science, computational sciences). The more creative we can be about building such linkages, the richer our curriculum can be and the better prepared our students will be for the world they’ll face when they graduate.

But just as important, we’ll be training a new generation of historians to work with the unimaginable wealth of historical information that a decade’s worth of scanning and marking up of texts, images, video, and sound files, has made available to us all.

 Posted by on January 3, 2013
Jan 022013
 

In my last post I argued that if we don’t start making some substantial changes to the history curriculum, we’ll be in a world of trouble before too much longer. I’m not a fan of those who simply predict doom without offering possible solutions. Now that the semester is over and I have more than ten minutes to think about something other than the most pressing item on my todo list, I want to propose my own possible solution to getting us out of the corner we have largely painted ourselves into.

Just to be clear from the outset, I am not going to propose what the content knowledge of that curriculum ought to be. I think that faculty in high school and postsecondary history departments around the world will continue to make very interesting decisions about the content of their courses and their curricula. My thinking, that I’m going to lay out in a series of posts over the next few days, is about the procedural knowledge we need to be teaching our students so that they can prosper in the information and service economy they will live in once they graduate.

Also, I feel the need to stipulate that I am specifically not proposing that we discontinue teaching our students analytical writing about the past or traditional research skills (e.g., how to locate and analyze primary sources). These are essential components of the history curriculum. But, as I have argued previously in this blog, these cannot be the only skills we teach and it is not necessary that every course we offer be based, at least in part, on teaching these skills. There is more to success in the economy our students will live in than being able to write a really good five-page paper based on primary sources.

My proposal for additions to the history curriculum of the future can be summed up in just four words: Making, Mining, Marking, and Mashing.

In the posts that follow in this series, I will elaborate on each of these for core concepts that I think will form essential foundations of the curriculum we ought to be developing in the coming years.  Yes, students will still be required to find and analyze primary sources, to form arguments, and to place those arguments (and the sources they find) into a larger conversation among scholars. But those skills alone will position our students ideally for the economy of 1993, not the economy of 2013, much less 2023. If we want to be true to ourselves as educators and true to our students’ needs and expectations, we need to admit that the skills we have been teaching them since the late 1890s are no longer sufficient preparation for the world those students will live in once they graduate.

You may not agree with me on the Four Ms of the future history curriculum, and if you don’t, I hope you’ll express that disagreement in very specific terms here or elsewhere (and then link back here). But I do think that you should at least consider that the very fact that we have been teaching history much the same way for more than 100 years is, in and of itself, a fact worth reflecting on. The world has changed an awful lot in the last 100 years and the fact that our teaching has changed so little in that century should give all of us pause.

So, read on as this series of posts unrolls, think about what I’m proposing, and let me know what you think. If you are at the American Historical Association annual meeting or at THATCampAHA in New Orleans, by all means track me down and tell me what you think in person. I also strongly suggest reading the Top Ed Tech Trends of 2012 by Audrey Watters of HackEducation. Much of my thinking on the history curriculum ten years hence has been influenced by Audrey’s writing about educational technology.

 Posted by on January 2, 2013
Dec 152012
 

In his Opinionator blog at the New York Times yesterday, Timothy Egan argues that ”history, the formal teaching and telling of it, has never been more troubled.” According to Egan, the twin forces of educators caving in to corporate demands to phase out the liberal arts and what he calls the “circular firing squad of academics who loathe popular histories,” have teamed up to push history to the edge of irrelevance.

My own view is that, while Egan’s essay is heavy on hyperbole, he’s more than a little correct–just not for the reasons he cites.

I share Egan’s view that the teaching and learning of history is in trouble, but not because, as he writes, “Too many history books are boring, badly written and jargon-weighted with politically correct nonsense.” To be sure, much of academic history writing these days is all of these things and many of my colleagues share a strong prejudice against anything written for a broader market. As a for instance, a number of my colleagues here at George Mason recently criticized my forthcoming book Teaching History in the Digital Age (Michigan, March 2013) as being “under theorized.” I certainly could have written a more heavily “theorized” book, but to do so would have limited its market appeal to the small number of academic historians who see theory as the marker of excellence. For good or ill, I chose instead to write to a much larger audience. This is not a new debate. See, for instance, my coverage of Barbara Weinstein’s commentary on this same topic more than five years ago.

But, as impenetrable as it can sometimes be, I don’t think over specialized academic writing is the real problem. In fact, I think it is an overly convenient straw man. Instead, I think history is in trouble for two reasons: bad teaching and flawed curricular design.

First the teaching. It’s not news that the vast majority of history classes in high school and at the post-secondary level are taught primarily through lecture with a smattering of discussion thrown in just to keep it lively (or sort of lively). It’s also not news, or at least it shouldn’t be, that research in cognitive science demonstrates quite conclusively that lecturing is the worst form of teaching, that is if learning is the goal of teaching. And, for what it’s worth, historians have been writing about how ineffective lecturing is as a mode of instruction in the history classroom since 1897. Yes, 1897.

While students in other disciplines are engaging in more and more active learning in their courses, solving problems, moving around, making things in the analog and online worlds, and negotiating their way through group projects, the vast majority of history students sit still, listen, and take notes. If history teachers, at whatever level, continue to cling to the lecture as the primary mode of instruction, our field will become more irrelevant with each passing year.

And then there is the curriculum. Around the United States history curricula are depressingly similar. Almost anywhere a student might choose to enroll, he or she will almost certainly find requirements that include the following: a few introductory surveys, upper level distribution requirements almost always dividing the past into some version of American, European, and non-Western history, a methods course, and a capstone research seminar. To give some credence to my contention here, I selected four history departments at random (plus George Mason) and here are links to their requirements: Boston College, University of Missouri, Denison University, UC Irvine. There is almost no variation in the requirements from department to department and I am quite certain that any random sample you would generate would have the same results.

In a recent paper (Trends Toward Global Excellence in Undergraduate Education), Marijk van der Wende of Amsterdam University College argues that “leaders of the future will have to work together across the boundaries of nationalities, cultures, and disciplines, in order to be successful in the globally engaged and culturally diverse society of the 21st century.” Take a look through the degree requirements I linked to above and you’ll find not one hint of interdisciplinarity, or of providing history majors with the knowledge and skills they will need to succeed in the globalized and increasingly digitalized knowledge economy they will enter after graduation. Given the very parochial, very siloed approach to education that typifies the university history degree, it’s no wonder that students are bored.

And they aren’t just bored. They’re voting with their feet. According to the recently published Digest of Education Statistics, enrollments in bachelor’s programs in history have grown by 5.6% since 2001, that is compared to growth of almost 10% in all other social science bachelor’s programs during the same period. A growth rate half of that in other social science disciplines should be cause for significant concern.

The way out of the box we’ve put ourselves in is actually pretty simple. First, dump the lecture as the primary mode of instruction. So many other disciplines have managed this trick that for historians to say that we just can’t is disingenuous at best, ridiculous at worst. It’s just not that hard to teach without lecturing. Second, take seriously the notion that our curricula are ideally positioned for 1973, not 2013. Rewriting curricula is much more difficult than dumping the lecture model of teaching because there is a lot of administrative overhead (curriculum committees, catalog copy, etc.) that have to be dealt with, not to mention good old fashioned inertia. But rewrite the curriculum we must if we are going to do right by our students.

If we don’t make these changes, then Timothy Egan will be right about our field being in a world of trouble.

 Posted by on December 15, 2012
Feb 012012
 

A recent NITLE Digital Scholarship Seminar, “Teaching DH 101: Introduction to the Digital Humanities” prompts a response from two undergraduates at the University of Pittsburgh. We were surprised to hear during the December 16, 2011 NITLE web seminar on undergraduate digital humanities (DH) instruction a recurring motif along the lines that coding (markup and programming) is [...]
Nov 182011
 

For years historians have wrung their hands about how long it is taking our doctoral students to complete their PhD degree. Six years? Seven? Eight? More? In fact, a 2008 report by the American Historical Association indicates that eight years is the average, with the range being 4-11 years to complete a PhD in history.

The longer it takes our students, the more expensive it is for them (and for us), in particular because every year they are in school is a year of lost income after someone graduates. Most of the solutions I’ve heard revolve around offering students more funding so they can spend more time on their studies/dissertations. It is interesting to note, however, that size of program seems to be more important to time-to-degree than funding, as students in small programs seem to complete their degrees in much less time.

I spent a fair amount of time last week in Switzerland chatting with PhD students there. If you are familiar with the typical European PhD program, you’ll know that PhD students on the Swiss side of the pond take no, or almost no classes. They enroll in their doctoral students and, as one student told me last week, begin “making a PhD.” In other words, they start on their dissertations right away, which means that they are generally done in three or four years.

My view is that both versions are problematic. Our students spend too much time on their degrees and European students don’t have the opportunities our have to deepen their knowledge or a topic, develop a knowledge of more than one subject area via minor fields, and because they aren’t spending time in class with fellow students, often lack a community of practice with other students–or so several have told me over the past year.

Given these issues, I have a modest proposal for changing the PhD degree–a proposal that puts the onus on us rather than on our students or the administration. Assuming they come to us with an MA in history, doctoral students could follow a curriculum that includes:

Year 1-2
12 credits of course work
6 credits of advanced reading
Qualifying exams

Years 3-5
Dissertation research and writing

Students who followed such a curriculum would thus have the benefit of the study of two specific areas of history–say a 12 credit major field and a 6 credit minor field, as compared to European students who launch right into the dissertation. These same students would then have had the opportunity to begin building a community of other students that could lead to such things as writing groups, etc., as their career progresses.

If we are honest with ourselves and our students, three years is certainly enough time to research and write a dissertation. Too often we either load them up with expectations that can only be satisfied by spending four, five, or even more years on the dissertation, or we allow them to work on topics more suited for monographs than for dissertations (or simply allow them to dawdle).

It’s possible to imagine fully funding students for four or possibly five years in such a degree program, especially if they spend (no more than) one year working as a teaching assistant go gather some useful classroom experience.

I realize that it’s unlikely that any PhD program out there is going to willingly shave credits off of their program, if only because of the revenue losses that would result. In the case of our program here at George Mason, such a proposal would mean the loss of between at least 6 and probably 12 credits (and possibly more) sold to each doctoral student.

There are many difficulties with such a proposal, not least of which is the willingness of external accrediting agencies to accept a doctoral degree that includes fewer credits. Nevertheless, I think a discussion of such a modified degree path is well worth having.

 Posted by on November 18, 2011
Sep 132011
 

Wikipedia in Higher Education Summit 2011

Is a Wikipedia assignment appropriate for the liberal arts classroom? Incorporating Wikipedia assignments into college classes isn’t new. For instance, in 2008 Jon Beasley-Murray assigned students in his University of British Columbia course on Latin American literature to create or edit or create Wikipedia entries on selected novels and bring them up to “Featured Article” [...]
Mar 032011
 

While the digital humanities first found a home in public research institutions, we are seeing them more and more at small liberal arts colleges. Why is that? How do the digital humanities fit with liberal education? To answer that question, we first need to define liberal education. In her article, “What’s So Liberal about [...]