ULC - PAL Peer Mentor Blog

This past May, after 16 years of education, I decided to try something new; I went to summer school. Like most school children, I was never enthusiastic about that sibilant pair of words. Summer school sounded like a slithering snake trying to stalk my synapses. I much preferred smooth sunshine, sweet smells, and free time. In many ways I still do, but I felt that taking an extra class was the right decision, so I got cozy in the classroom with William Shakespeare and a curriculum far more condensed than I was used to.
At first I thought I wouldn’t face many challenges. I love literature, I’ve done well in my English classes, and I work at the Shakespeare on the Saskatchewan Festival, so I figured doing well in the class would come naturally. What I didn’t expect was the difficulty I had adapting to the summer schedule. I’m a bit of a nighthawk, so I generally don’t register for early morning classes. However, there was only one Shakespeare class to register for, and it was at 8:30 in the morning, lasting until 10:50. Now, I could handle the long class because I had taken night classes before, but I wasn’t used to taking the same two and a half hour class every day. Every morning I met with Shakespeare’s slippery syntax and elaborate density. Even with a prof who was interested, smart, and kind, I was having trouble engaging with the material.
At first, it was an issue of sleep deprivation. My internal clock disagreed with the early hour, and without a coffee at break, I would periodically nod off. The plays were interesting and the language was rich, but my eyelids were heavy and my attention short. I needed a way to focus myself and do the work I knew I was capable of.
My initial inclination was to work harder to take good notes. That’s what all good students do, right? Well, after the second class, I had one double sided sheet of notes. By the end of the seven-week course, I’d added just one more side of notes to my collection. Clearly that strategy didn’t work for me. After trying my best to write diligently for one class, I didn’t see much improvement in my focus, and my notes felt like fragmented snapshots of ideas that were more complete in my head. Something else was needed.
So what finally worked? Something that some people might consider a classroom sin: doodling. I knew that I learned better through listening to lectures than rushing to write them down, but at first I thought writing would help the depleted attention that I was trying to listen with. When I gave up on note taking, I started to doodle. At first, I thought it might be a sign that I was giving up, accepting that I couldn’t adjust to the unfamiliar schedule. Yet, the more I doodled, the more attentive I became. As I drew abstract shapes and cartoony animals, I began to get a deeper sense of how fascinating Hamlet’s conflicted masculinity is or how tragically King Richard the Third is portrayed in comparison to the noble characterization of King Henry the Fifth, how the real substance of King Lear is so ironically nihilistic. An activity that is supposed to be a distraction was helping me focus.
I’m not a visual artist, and I’m generally not a visual learner. I love the sound of language and learn best by listening. Yet, through doodling I was able to generate creative energy that helped me to interpret and retain what I heard in lectures while forming new ideas. The success that I had expected and desired to achieve began to come around.
Knowing that I had been listening closely, I decided to put all my faith in that attention. My three sides of notes were hardly apt for study material when it came time to write the final, so I needed to trust that my reading, listening, and interpretation skills would carry me. Leading up to the final, I was quite ill. I’m typically a person that tries to be extra health-conscious near exams, but on the morning that I wrote that final, I was nauseous even though I wasn’t nervous. Still, the focus I had stumbled upon throughout the course got me through the exam comfortably. In fact, I enjoyed writing essays that I had previously thought about while adding new ideas that hadn’t struck me until I actually started writing.
I did well in the class, but more importantly I felt fluent in the material. Shakespeare became much less of an enigma, and I could express ideas about his work without having to recall those ideas from a particular source of study material.
I know that not everybody can learn this way, and not everybody should. We all learn uniquely, and we need to work to understand how our learning styles are unique in order to make them effective. However, that understanding is ongoing, and it can only expand when we try new things. If I hadn’t tried taking a summer class, I may never have discovered how doodling can be a useful practice for me. If I hadn’t tried doodling, I may not have made as strong of a connection to the material in my summer class. Even when we struggle, we always benefit from new experiences and creative problem solving. When that creativity softens our struggles, we begin to see new potentials, and our anxiety digresses.

-Isaac Bond

Posted 09:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Mortimer: So how was class today?

Fink: You know what I’m sick of? That one person, who just happens to be in pretty much every class, who puts up their hand every opportunity they get trying to impress the prof with their “insightful” comments.

Mortimer: Whoa, rough day Fink or what? True, I suppose some people get a little annoying, but do you not consider participation a pretty big asset to a good class?

Fink: Whaddya mean? I have no problem with everyone sitting there quietly while the prof runs his spiel. I mean, how else are you going to learn? I’m not paying to hear some fool in the front row try to marvel the crowd with rhetorical jabber.

Mortimer: And I didn’t say you were. But it would be a shame to think every dollar you pay as going directly to the professor. You’re paying for your education my friend, and other, more active, methods of learning outside of simply being lectured to are certainly on the rise; and for good reason I should think.

Fink: So what, bring in the coloured blocks and let’s all play “Learn how to Share,” is that what you’re getting at?

Mortimer: Ah yes, facetious sarcasm; nothing gets a point across better (to use a little sarcasm of my own). My dear Finky, I feel you are being dramatically misled by your preconceived misconceptions of educational learning. Educational facilities, such as this here UofS, are starting to understand that there are many different styles of learning, a major one being active engagement. Participation sparks such activity, and can be seen as improving the quality of a lecture for everyone involved. You also give me a very good example to prove my point with. When teaching young children the concept of sharing and the benefits of it, do you think it would suffice to bring in an expert on the topic and have that person run through the definition of sharing, its history, and how it is most successfully practiced?

Fink: Or have the children actually experience it for themselves?

Mortimer: Precisely.

Fink: Well that makes sense. But still, not all input is as constructive as you claim.

Mortimer: Yes, that’s true. And classroom participation is a difficult subject. Should professors mark based on it, making it mandatory, for what about students who feel incredibly uncomfortable speaking out in class? Learning is becoming an increasingly social activity, more so than before, and discussion is often an integral part to a class; but as evidenced here it’s rather clear that your style of learning does not quite coincide with that shift.
Fink: Well I don’t hate all discussion. I also don’t like the profs thinking they know everything. Well, wait a minute. Could this then be like saying that the power is shifting from the profs to the students, and we can learn however we want to?

Mortimer: Um…well I’m unsure of this power you so speak of, but yes, if that’s how you need to think about it. Though I certainly believe the “power” has been in the students’ hands all along.

Fink: Awesome. Well I gotta head to my next class and abuse this newfound power of mine.

Mortimer: Well hopefully it works out for you.

Fink: Wait, one thing I missed: so there isn’t a way to get that student in the front row to shut up?

Posted 11:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I have quite recently rediscovered my love for learning, in the most basic sense of the word- simply discovering something I was unaware of before, making the unknown known. This can be in the form of actual “fact,” something written in history, or the ever fluctuating opinions and arguments of other individuals. I originally thought I had merely regained my love for reading, but upon further examination (foreshadowing pun intended) I have realized that it goes much deeper than that, for it is a detrimental mistake to even consider reading as the only worthwhile method of learning.

“Of course,” beams the ever obedient student, “the lecture portion of any class is just as important as the text.”

Ah yes, but that cheery response has nothing to do with the 10% Participation Mark does it? The loss of grade due to failing presence perhaps? The overall nonverbal-chastisement received for missing class? No…of course not.

Don’t get my cynical tone wrong; I’m not attempting to undermine academic procedures. Rather, I see importance in understanding why we learn. Fear not, I will stray as far away as possible from the idea of Man’s Insatiable Thirst for Knowledge (deliberate anachronism). However, many current incentives for learning somewhat depress me. University is the often-accepted next step to life after high school, and that in itself has its positives and negatives. Any argument claiming the attendance of university as more negative than positive would, I believe, fall through in seconds. We, as constantly progressing humans, need to take part in some form of active learning, study, and skill forming in order to combat a very devastating ignorance which can lead to societal stagnancy, or something even more harmful. On the other hand, how beneficial is an education indirectly “forced” on an individual, leaving one with more uncertainties than a clear direction? To cop out on my own question, I’ll just say it’s certainly a difficult issue.

To backtrack a tad, the “burden” of learning I speak of directly correlates to the constant stress (the most overwhelming during final exams), of a University student, all of you, the need for intoxicants as an escape (why do you think pub-crawls are so successful?), 3 months and ~$500 holding its value in one number, and the harrowing presence of an ubiquitous sense of guilt. Boy, do I ever pick out University’s best traits.

Worry not, I’m not intending to discourage you and other students, for I am right along there with you.

The point I’m cumbersomely trying to make is that there can be no loss in learning. Although not always tangibly beneficial, everything BUT the grade coming out of a class is what holds the true value. I understand everyone has their own reasons for everything, therefore a remunerative scholarship or promising career may be the goals to strive for. I can’t deny that success feels good. But understanding success’s many forms is important, especially in a University setting.
And I guess here’s where I plug the University Learning Centre. Every student at the U of S has made a conscious decision to be here, and that itself is at the foundation of what allows the ULC to exist. We understand that university is more difficult than anyone ever hopes and that it extends well beyond the lecture hall. We are willing and wanting to help any student that is willing to help her/himself, trying to help everyone find success in their own way. We try to lessen that overpowering burden learning seems to pile on us.

So whether it’s Harlequin’s latest romance, Paramount’s latest film, your last attended class, or a tiring debate with a good friend, your life is forever being enriched; try to enjoy it. Of course, it could be argued that such is not the case upon reading this poorly structured opinion of mine. But I do thank you for your time and patience, and keep tuning in to our wonderful blog.

PAL Jonathan

Posted 09:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)