Teaching Large Classes

At Ryerson’s School of Business, we are experimenting with large classes. I agreed to teach as many as 330 students in a class; one colleague taught up to 1000. To those whose institutions pride themselves on small class offerings, and to faculty battling administrative efforts to make classes bigger, this must seem like marching open armed into the jaws of doom. But we wanted to bank research time by pushing all teaching commitments into a single semester. By making classes bigger, we would free up extended blocks of time for research activity and simultaneously reduce the costs to the university. Part of the savings was used to hire graders and tutors. This freed us almost entirely of marking commitments for the year. It seemed like a win–win situation.

So far, so good. The only issue left was the students. My goal was to design an introductory management accounting course that could be delivered in a large class environment without jeopardizing either student success or the quality of the learning experience.

The Grand Plan and Early Results

There is something to be said for an incremental approach, where you tinker with one or two new elements of content and style, assess the results at year-end, and then tinker again the following year. I have used this method successfully, but only with a more advanced course and smaller classes. With a large group of new undergrads, however, I believe it important to convey the sense that the course and its direction have been thoroughly planned. In any case, I had not taught the course before, so I was starting from scratch. For this reason, everything from classes to draft examinations was prepared in advance. Despite the fact that I would not set foot in a classroom until January 2004, I started planning in June 2003.

I planned to rely heavily on presentation technology, but I also wanted classroom interaction. This meant investing in workshops to learn Blackboard tools (Blackboard is our electronic course platform) and adapting delivery style to the demands of a large lecture theatre. How, for example, could I engage those students seated a galaxy away?

Some words about technology are due here. For this particular course, I use PowerPoint in the classroom. My presentations and class notes are stored on Blackboard, where students can access them. In my higher-level courses, where discussion is key and classes are smaller, I find that technology gets in the way. However, at the lower level where students have disparate attention spans and dubious study skills, I find that colour, graphics, and the freedom to navigate around the room with a wireless mouse help me engage the shy students while subduing the rowdy. Therefore, a heavy investment in technology and classroom support was a prerequisite for running the course the way I had planned. By “classroom support”, I mean the security of knowing that when the equipment fails, there’s a phone at hand with a human (not an answering machine) at the other end. If your institution has not made this investment, I would avoid this kind of endeavour.

I designed the evaluation structure to include two 30-minute online quizzes, and gave the students a one-week period to log on and complete each one. The questions were randomized, so two students working together were unlikely to have the same quiz. All questions were multiple choice, and most required some sort of calculation. The time constraint reduced the advantage of keeping a textbook at hand.

I anticipated that the online testing would create some anxiety, so I distributed a practice quiz (not counted toward the final grade) as part of the course outline package. The content of this practice quiz was drawn from material in the prerequisite course and from the early chapters of the management accounting course. I later posted the same quiz online with answers and explanations. Its purpose was twofold: to serve as a homework assignment that gets students working on the course in the early weeks, and to give them an incentive to learn about the Blackboard testing tools. To get feedback, they had to log on and then do the quiz online.

We survived the early weeks easily — too easily, and I was bracing myself for a fall. Considering the size of the class, and the fact that the students were younger than usual (eliminating Ontario’s grade 13 caused a spike in new university applications), class management was easier than I expected. Getting class participation was not a major challenge. I was amazed at the number of students who actually attempted the homework assignments before class. I was intrigued with the manner in which they censured each other both in class and during their online discussions. The “fall” came with the first real online quiz. Blackboard crashed, triggering much student anxiety and a big headache for me. Despite the technical problems, however, the quiz achieved its intended objective: showing them how ill prepared they were for the midterm exam.

While Blackboard’s testing function continued to underperform, it had its redeeming features. With the date of the midterm approaching, I could easily create and distribute study material. For example, after our review class I released the file containing all the quiz questions as well as the solutions. Combined with the solutions to the first written assignment, this provided both volume and variety of study material. I was spared the problem of bottlenecks at the photocopier, and the joy of lugging reams of paper across the campus.

The Outcome, Reflections, and Plans for the Future

This course has a historic failure rate of 20–30%, which I wanted to reduce by about one third. In the prerequisite course (taught in a smaller class environment), a midterm average mark of 48% was not unusual. I think my first online quiz put the fear of God into them! While some students attributed their poor results to Blackboard’s unreliability, many heeded the wakeup call and buckled down. My midterm results were promising, with a class average of 68%. I should point out here that until the midterm, my office hours were minimal. After the midterm, 8–9 hours per week was normal. The course final exam is common across all sections, and a student must pass it to pass the course. When the final exam marks were factored in with the term work (two quizzes, two written assignments, and the midterm), my failure rate was 15%.

While some students may be uncomfortable in the large classes, I heard few complaints. I administered an electronic survey to solicit student views on several issues when the final exam was over. In one question, I asked them to state a preference for the larger class, with adequate technology, versus the smaller conventional class with chalk and an overhead. In response to my question (N=165), 55% of participants opted against the conventional (smaller) classroom format.

You can have smaller classes and still use technology, but research time makes staying abreast of classroom technology difficult. Furthermore, if we demand that new instructors teach multiple sections of small classes, use technology, and launch/maintain a research agenda, we destine our hiring committees to an unending task of interviewing candidate after candidate.

Problems we encountered included ensuring both fair evaluations and sufficient access to one-on-one assistance. On the first issue, the lecture theatre is not adequately designed for an exam. I needed multiple versions of the midterm to prevent cheating. With four different exams, and five markers, I had to pay special attention to the content and provide extra guidance to the markers. With respect to student assistance, graduate students taught weekly tutorial sessions and, in the latter half of the semester, my schedule belonged to the students. For about seven weeks, my time was theirs. In addition to the extended office hours; there was endless email. While I believe I can manage my time here more effectively, I’m confident that my students were satisfied. The official course evaluation drew 285 responses. About 95% of the respondents agreed or strongly agreed that they were treated fairly and got individual help when needed; 86% said the course was worthwhile.

Long-Term Implications

The short-term rewards from these new teaching arrangements seem promising. Student performance seems to be improving, I have more designated research time, and the university is saving money. However, another side of this arrangement has not received adequate consideration. Those of us who asked for these special arrangements used “enhanced research output” as justification, which our administrators liked. But the real reason they acquiesced is the money.

Over the long term, this is not a win–win situation. We can only save money by reserving these arrangements for introductory courses with high enrolment. This means we never share the research we do with our students, because introductory level students have limited time for, and interest, in research. Furthermore, if the researchers usurp the lower level courses, finding instructors for the advanced courses can become a major challenge.

While I support these special arrangements for faculty who want them, I realize that we have highlighted a serious issue, one that faculty have known for decades but our administration has yet to address. Research is an integral part of the university mandate, not just a perq to attract and pacify new instructors. Considering the long-term interest of the Faculty of Business, we must push for change in our guiding philosophy so that we can reap a long-term benefit too.

Vanessa Magness
Ryerson University
vmagness@ryerson.ca