teaching

Piloting the Imperial Shuttle

At staff meetings and the like, I often find myself channelling Princess Leia. The HoD, faculty head, or whoever will be outlining some pioneering new initiative, but what I’ll hear is General Madine announcing the theft of an Imperial shuttle to the assembled rebels in Return of the Jedi: “Disguised as a cargo ship, and using a secret Imperial code, a strike team will land on the moon and deactivate the shield generator.” To which I incredulously respond (usually - I hope! - to myself), “Who have they found to pull that off?!”

Well, finally - finally! - I get to be General Solo, and my strike team is assembled.

The hazardous, desperate, hare-brained, potentially glorious mission in question? Establishing an interdisciplinary curriculum to deliver to 5000+ second year undergraduate students here at the University of Sheffield. Specifically, I have taken on a part time secondment as an Academic Lead within our new cross-faculty programme, Achieve More, which aims to offer all of our undergraduates the chance to work collaboratively, across disciplines, to better understand some of the major challenges facing society - and how research can help to address these.

Various things attracted me to this post - and one should not underestimate the influence that turning 40 can have on major life decisions - but essentially, I applied because I think it is time to walk the walk of interdisciplinarity. Back in 2007, when I participated in NESTA’s Crucible programme (about which I have written before), I was already pretty sold on the idea the tools required to address global challenges would need to be draw from a range of different disciplines. At a Crucible reception, we heard the head of HEFCE commit to this interdisciplinary agenda, and subsequent funding initiatives in the environmental sector (e.g. Valuing Nature) have backed up this commitment to a certain extent.

But something else they got us to do on Crucible was to design the ‘University of Utopia’ - given a blank slate, how would we go about designing a university? Our plans differed in details - things such as establishing fast lanes so that academics can walk briskly between buildings unimpeded by loitering students, as I recall - but one common thread was that none of us went for a departmental structure. Put simply, if you start from the perspective of questions or challenges - ‘food security’ would be a good example - then it makes little sense to sit all the plant scientists in one building, apart from all the political scientists, historians, chemists, and so on.

And yet, universities are the way they are - to some extent, the way they have always been - and departments are not going away. Initiatives like Achieve More, then, are intended to bring us that bit closer to Utopia. It is no surprise that we are not alone in thinking this way - indeed, I would suggest there is a general trend across the UK higher education sector to offer students broader opportunities, in addition to the depth of disciplinary knowledge that has always HE’s primary selling point. Both Exeter and UCL, to pick a couple of examples, have programmes allowing students to engage with research with a focus on major societal challenges.

In part this is a recruitment tool, sold on employability. For instance, I recently heard digital health entrepreneur Kieran Daly say that businesses such as those he supports are looking to hire T-shaped people - graduates with a breadth of knowledge across disciplines, as well as a depth of knowledge within their core subject. How widely-held this preference is among employers remains to be seen, but certainly some of the key qualities we are seeking to instil - effective teamwork, good communication skills, a range of critical thinking skills, and so on - ought to look good on any CV.

More generally, however, this shift towards a more holistic view of what higher education should deliver can be thought of as an attempt to re-establish the idea of ‘scholarship’ in a 21st Century context. Some existing programmes seem focused much more on enriching the undergraduate experience than on ticking ‘employability’ boxes - see the Broad Vision programme at the University of Westminster, for example, which gets artists and scientists involved in creative conversations and collaborative projects. This chimes really well with my own experiences on Crucible and elsewhere: above all, working outside the comfort zone of your own discipline - especially when you are given the freedom to fail, to talk and collaborate and create but ultimately to come up with nothing functional - ought to be fun.

All very well in theory, then; but the devil, of course, is in the logistics. What separates Achieve More from programmes at other institutions is the scale of its ambition - we want all our students want to participate, not just a highly motivated, self-selected few. Which means that conversations with colleagues typically start with ‘That’s a great idea BUT…’ Better, of course, than ‘That’s a terrible idea AND…’ But the ‘BUT’ is big. And addressing that is what will be keeping me busy for a while.

So if you’ll excuse me, people are relying on me to get that shield down. I just need more time…

How to Ace an Essay

Preamble I’ve seen a few posts recently on ‘how to write’ for scientists, from the technical (this on how to write a paper) to the more general (this on how to write clearly). So here’s my contribution: how to write an essay. Now I’m all to well aware that, as Brian McGill, author of the ‘how to write clearly’ piece states, this kind of enterprise inevitably teeters on the edge of hubris (both pieces referred to above fall the on the right side, I hasten to add!), so let me make clear my motivation. This is essentially an extended piece of feedback to my undergraduate tutees, following the first essays that they submitted to me this month. The aim of this exercise was to make sure they all achieve a mark for a tutorial essay that is commensurate with their abilities by the end the academic year, and that they also do as well as they can in exams. Much of what appears below is obvious or well-known; some of it is perhaps rather specific to our assessment procedures. But it directly addresses issues that our students have found challenging on occasions, so on the off chance that it is more widely useful, I thought I’d post it in its entirity here…

Before you start

Read any instructions regarding format, filenames etc. If working in Word, use File>Save as to give your essay an informative filename (including your name) rather than just accepting the default. Don’t call it ‘essay.docx’. Please!

Especially in exams - make sure that everything in your essay is geared towards answering the question.

Read around the subject. Use reasonably general search terms in google scholar or web of knowledge, and search back through the reference sections of papers you read, and forward through papers that have cited them, for other relevant work. The primary literature (peer-reviewed papers) should be the first and major place you look for information. Looking to e.g. Wikipedia first then following up references from there is not good practice.

Make sure that any notes you take clearly state their source; in addition, if you copy and paste directly from a source, it’s sensible to paste into quotation marks so you’ll remember that you can’t copy directly from your notes into your final essay. So for instance, you might end up in your notes with something like:

Webb et al. PLOS1 2010 show that deep pelagic ocean is underexplored compared to coastal seas: “The deep pelagic ocean is the largest habitat by volume on Earth, yet it remains biodiversity's big wet secret, as it is hugely under-represented in global databases of marine biological records.”

You’ll know then that the first statement can be used in your essay (referencing the paper, of course – see below), but the exact phrasing in the quotation marks should be avoided (unless you want to include it as a direct quote – which can be done from time to time, but only really if the quote is particularly striking).

Because you’ll probably forget to do that from time to time, never copy and paste from your notes into your final essay. This is a good way to plagiarise by accident – you read something in your notes, think it sounds great, forget that you copied it wholesale from somewhere else. (Note: plagiarism-detection software is dumb, but thorough; careless copy-pastes will get picked up.)

For better or worse (OK, for worse) we use MS Word for our essays. Word is a good word processor, but it’s pretty awful at many other things. So keep your formatting simple (single column, don’t try to wrap text prettily around figures, etc.) – it is far  more important that your essay is easy to read (single column, decent sized font) and to comment on (consider 1.5 or double line spacing), than that it bears any kind of physical resemblance to a published paper or magazine article.

Next, and most importantly: write a plan. This can take several forms. A nice idea is to try to write a 25 word summary of what you plan to cover in the essay – this forces you to focus on what you think is important to answer the question (and is borrowed from a nice piece on how to write a scientific paper from Conservation Bytes).

You should also write a list of subheadings. Make these quite specific: ‘Introduction’, ‘Body’, ‘Conclusion’ are useless; rather, list the topics or points of view that you think it is important to cover in your essay. You may have a dozen or more for a standard 1200-2000 word essay. This approach has a couple of advantages. First, you can shuffle the subheadings around until the order makes sense to you – each heading should logically lead on from the previous one – and by keeping the plan to hand when you write your essay, you can avoid drifting off on tangents. In addition, by breaking down the essay in this way you are left with a series of short and quite specific paragraphs to write, rather than an entire essay (which can seem daunting). There’s nothing to stop you retaining some subheadings in your final essay, although probably fewer than in your plan.

Finally, as in everything you write, you need to think carefully about your audience. This is a general tip for clear writing in any context (see this post by Brian McGill), but takes on a rather specific meaning when you’re writing an assessed essay: think about whether the person marking it will be marking 150 others (common for exam essays) or 5 others (e.g. in a tutorial situation). In the former case, content and structure become more important than style: you really want to hammer home at the beginning exactly how you plan to answer the question, and at the end to reiterate exactly how you have just answered it. A tutorial situation, where both you and the marker have a little more time, gives you more opportunity to indulge your literary pretensions (although style will not win you marks lost on poor content).

Now you’ve worked out what you want to write, you just need to…

Write the damn thing

Obviously, you should start with an Introduction. This should cover three key points: What, Why, and How.

What is a brief introduction to the topic, and Why says why this is important, what is controversial and/or unknown (and hence why an essay is required). Finally, How sets out exactly how you intend to address the topic in your essay. Don’t be afraid of finishing your introduction with a sentence along the lines of “In this essay, I will show that…”

A note on style: in my view, personal pronouns and opinions are not only fine, but pretty much obligatory for a good essay (although some colleagues will disagree). So yes, you can say “I will show…”, “I think…”, and so on. Far better than “…it will be argued that…” and other passive voice horrors. But keep the tone formal: “do not” rather than “don’t”.

The structure of the Body of your essay will be drawn directly from your essay plan, and you can retain some subheadings if you like. Use diagrams, graphs or other images if appropriate – but only if appropriate. A well-designed or well-chosen figure can really enhance an essay, but a gratuitous one is unlikely to garner you any extra marks.

Finally, you want to draw some Conclusions. Broadly speaking, what you want to do here is to re-state the What and Why from the Introduction, and to sum up How you’ve addressed the issue. If the essay title is a question (and especially in an exam), hammer home here how you have answered it. For example, if the essay asks you to weigh up the evidence between two theories and determine which is more likely to be true, make sure you get into your conclusion something like “In sum, the weight of evidence supports x and I therefore conclude that x is more likely than y…” This is no place for subtlety!

Referencing

OK, this is the tough one. I have been writing scientific prose for so long that referencing is second nature to me, and I can’t for the life of me work out why it causes so many problems. But following discussion in the tutorial here are a few guidelines.

First: reference stuff you’ve read. Don’t reference stuff you haven’t. I know from personal experience that work gets cited wrongly (e.g. “Webb (2012) states…” when in fact I had stated the opposite!), so don’t rely on somebody else’s interpretation of what Webb (2012) actually said. If you really can’t track down the original source, then you can put e.g. “Darwin (1859, cited in Webb 2012)”, but try not to make a habit of this.

Second: every factual statement you make (that is not something that you have derived for yourself) needs to be backed up with a reference to the literature. If that means that in one paragraph, you reference the same work 10 times, then so be it (although see the point about synthesis below). Sometimes this can be tough – if, for example, you want to quote a very well-known fact, such as the diameter of the Earth, it’s may to be difficult to find a paper that gives this information. Text books can be very useful here in providing an authoritative source of basic information (whilst recognising that every practising scientist will simply have looked at Wikipedia, you shouldn’t!)

In terms of how you actually cite stuff, your best guide is the papers you read, but here are some general pointers: a single author study is cited as Webb (2012), a two author study as Webb & Freckleton (2007), and a study with more than two authors as Webb et al. (2010) (forgive my lack of imagination, it’s late…) Note that ‘et al.’ is short for ‘et alia’, hence the ‘.’ after ‘al’. Notice too that author surname only is given in the text – no initials, no first name.

It’s also useful to think about where the brackets come. So, you can write “As has previously been shown (Webb 2012) this is nonsense…” or “As Webb (2012) showed, this is nonsense…” – in reading phrases with a reference, you mentally skip everything in brackets.

Another point of style: it’s punchier to refer to authors by name, so “Webb et al. (2010) demonstrated that…” rather than “researchers have shown… (Webb et al. 2010)” or worse, “scientists believe… (Webb et al. 2010)”. In doing this, the grammar of the sentence should follow the number of authors to whom you’re referring – so “Webb (2012) states that… he also showed…” but “Webb et al. (2010) state that… they also showed…”

Now: how can you pick up extra points? One of the things we look for is synthesis. One way to demonstrate this is to summarise the findings of several studies in a single sentence, so “…multiple lines of evidence suggest that this effect is weak at best (Smith 2000, Jones et al. 2005, Smith & Jones 2007, Webb 2012)”. Once you get into this habit, then the problem noted above – having to cite a single reference repeatedly over the course of a paragraph – ought to diminish, as each of your paragraphs will be a synthesis of insights you’ve drawn from a number of papers.

Another thing we’re very keen on is critical analysis, which again you can demonstrate through citation, e.g. “Smith (2000) claimed that… However, I agree with Webb et al. (2010) that this was highly unlikely because…” You have shown that there are two points of view, and that, after due consideration and critical analysis, you have come to your own conclusion (the correct one, in this case, naturally).

Finally, everything you reference should appear in a single reference list at the end of the essay (ordered alphabetically by the first author’s surname); nothing that you have not referenced in your essay should be in this list. (Don’t look for a list at the end of this piece, I’m just making stuff up…) Formatting this list is easy: just pick a journal and copy their style (although best to choose a journal that uses the Name (Year) format for referencing, rather than numbered references).

There are numerous minor permutations of formatting, what’s important is that you’re consistent, and that you get the key information in. So, let’s dissect one of my papers:

Webb, T.J. (2012) Marine and terrestrial ecology: unifying concepts, revealing differences. Trends in Ecology & Evolution 27: 535-541

Here we have the author’s name and initials – if there are multiple authors, include all names here. We have the year. Then comes the title of the paper, the name of the journal, the volume of the journal, and the page numbers. That’s all that is necessary, and all of this information should be easily accessible, usually from the front page of any paper you read. For some online articles, you may find only what’s called a ‘doi’ (digital object identifier), which can replace the volume and page no. information (but not the rest). You can cite books in a similar way (authors, year, title, publisher), and chapters from edited books too (authors, year, title, book editors and book title, publisher) – again, have a look at the reference sections of the papers you read for tips. Bold, italics, etc. are optional – again, consistency is the key. Likewise your decision regarding whether or not to abbreviate journal titles (e.g. I could have used TREE for the reference above, but would need to abbreviate all others in my list then too).

And that’s it. Begin by following this advice, and hopefully as your confidence (and marks) increase you will start to break some of the rules and forge your own style. If you want an independent view, you can download a guide written by University of Exeter students from here.

Oh – one final thing. Spell check. And proof read. Read each other’s essays if that’s helpful. Silly, avoidable mistakes will tip the balance downwards if you’re on the borderline between grades.

Judgement vs Accountability

What with one thing and another, it’s taken me a while to sit down to write this, and the event that triggered it - the furore over this year’s GCSE results – already seems like old news. But it got me thinking more broadly, and I hope those thoughts are still relevant these several news cycles later. So: on a lively Newsnight debate about the GCSEs, someone suggested that exams at 16 were unnecessary, and said something like ‘teachers are professionals, they can use their professional judgement to assess their students at that age without the need for external examining bodies’. I don’t have particularly strong views on this particular topic (although I’m happy my results did not depend on my chemistry teacher who once graded – apparently without noticing – a pile of French essays that we handed in for a joke) but the underlying issue of the (not always complementary) relationship between professional judgment and rigid accountability seems to me highly relevant to academia, in several ways.

Most obviously, of course, in teaching. In general the days of simply sticking a grade on a paper with no justification have passed, and with them rumours of dubious practices (the famous ‘chuck a pile of essays down stairs and rank them by where they fall’). This is surely a good thing, and is the least that students should expect now that they have a more personal sense of what their education is costing.

But, partly as a consequence of increasingly assertive students, I’m getting more and more questions about the marks I give for undergraduate essays. Not disputing the marks, but asking what they would have needed to do to get that 72 rather than 68, or 75 rather than 72… Now I do try to set out an explicit marking scheme, and to provide ample feedback, but sometimes it’s tempting just to say ‘I just thought it was on solid 2:1’; or ‘What do you need to do to get 80? Just write a fantastic essay!’; or ‘What makes a great essay? Not sure but I know one when I read one…’ The strict accountability introduced by rigid marking schemes can be your friend when you have 150 exam scripts to process, but when you’re marking half a dozen tutorial essays it can get in the way of a more subjective judgement.

Something similar happens in the peer review process for both papers and grant proposals. For papers, especially when acting as an editor and rejecting work without sending it for full review, I frequently justify this course of action using bits copied and pasted from the journal’s aims and scope to defend my decision in an accountable fashion. But usually what I’m really saying (except on those occasions when I’m saying: 'this is crap') is, ‘Nah, sorry, didn’t really float my boat’. Or to couch the same sentiment in more formal language, ‘In my professional judgement, I don’t think this work merits publication in journal X’. Full stop. I think this has some similarities to a GP’s diagnosis – one hopes that it is founded in a good understanding of the subject, but one need not document every single step ruling out all other possible diagnoses.

Finally, in reviewing grant proposals you can be forced to be more prescriptive than perhaps you would like. Certain boxes must be filled in, for instance on what you perceive to be the main strengths and weaknesses of the proposed work, which forces you to break down the proposal in a way which may not match your gut feeling (to use another term for professional judgement). So something that you thought was eminently fundable is scuppered because you happened to list more in the weaknesses column than in the strengths – regardless of your overall impression.

Accountability is of course absolutely essential to the process of science – the audit trail which leads from raw data to published results is arguably more important than the results themselves. But in the assessment of its worth? I’m not so sure.