Scaffolding

December 5, 2024 - (PDF)

Yet again, last spring, I was reminded of the importance of breaking major assignments into smaller, more manageable chunks (a form of what’s known as scaffolding). 

I had given students in my upper-level Religion and Disability course their final assignment 3+ weeks before the deadline. (Now, writing this sentence, 3+ weeks doesn’t sound like that much time at all….) There was one deadline prior to that date, with an easy ask: students needed to let me know their chosen topic, so I could ensure they were on the right track. Then, the next time I’d be encountering their work was in its final form, for an official grade. The idea was for them to spend several weeks working earnestly and vigorously on their project. 

What do you think actually happened? Do you think my students spent three whole weeks focused on the final project for my course—intensively researching and drafting and getting feedback and revising and polishing? Do you think they submitted their very best work, representative of extensive, well-planned efforts and all that they had learned throughout the semester? 

No, dear readers, they did not.

Most of my students did their assignment the weekend before the Monday-morning deadline. How do I know this? Well, for one, I got a bunch of emails that weekend with the sorts of questions that you would only ask, at that time, if you hadn’t been working on the project all along. I can also see when students submit their projects on Canvas; typically (though of course not always), when you’ve completed an assignment well in advance, you aren’t turning it in 18 minutes before the deadline. Most obviously, their final products weren’t reflective of weeks’ worth of effort, which was disappointing for me (I’m the one who had to read them, after all) and I’m sure disappointing for them (when their grades weren’t as high as desired).

I know it’s a good idea to break large projects into smaller, more manageable chunks. In higher ed, such structuring can be a way of promoting inclusion and belonging. All people—not just students—need to be able to “backward plan” big tasks. Opportunities for feedback, time for revision, and celebrations of progress along the way can be so helpful when anyone is working toward a big goal. I know just how easy it is to get overwhelmed and to procrastinate without some accountability mechanisms. (I know because I am procrastinating on several big projects RIGHT NOW!!)

But sometimes I don’t have enough time before the semester starts to figure out a bunch of different deadlines for major assignments. Sometimes I don’t feel like multiple deadlines or check-ins will fit into the course schedule. Sometimes I don’t think I’ll have enough time to give students feedback before the next deadline or amidst other responsibilities. Sometimes I forget. And sometimes I just don’t want to. 

At some point, students will need to know how to do this themselves—just as we have to, whether it’s creating a new course, coordinating a program, writing an article, or planning a vacation. How will students learn if we always do it for them? How will they learn if they don’t experience the consequences of mismanaging their time or waiting until the last minute?

This scaffolding issue seems, to me, to epitomize the complex teaching considerations we all face at some point. Sometimes what seems best for students isn’t what’s best for us (and we matter too). Sometimes what’s best for us isn’t what’s best for students; for example, it would be best for ME if I could watch YouTube clips of a porcupine eating an apple for the entire 75 minutes of every class period, but that’s probably not going to help students learn about religion. (Then again, maybe Critical Porcupine Studies will be the next big thing in my discipline; you never know!) Sometimes we trick ourselves into thinking that there’s only one way to do things, like structuring, when in fact, there are lots of options. Sometimes we may give up on a solid instructional strategy when we encounter difficulties, as I did, instead of shifting our approach and trying something different. Sometimes we aren’t clear, really, about what’s important to us. Sometimes it can be hard to admit our own limits. Sometimes it’s just hard to know what to do.

This semester, I’ll share, I was back to scaffolding my students’ final project. I broke the project into four parts with different deadlines and opportunities for feedback from me before their final submission, due this Monday. I looked at Part 3 over Thanksgiving Break. But ending the Toolbox with this disclosure didn’t feel satisfying to me. It seemed to sidestep many of the issues that I was struggling with. And I certainly don’t want the message of this, or any, Toolbox to be: just keep doing stuff as a teacher, even if it’s painful and inauthentic. 

Thankfully, in offering me feedback on this Toolbox, my colleagues in the CFI reminded me of other options that I could consider for future scaffolding attempts. For example, why couldn’t I have each student create their own backward plan and then report on their own progress? This would alleviate the responsibility on me to manage all of their timelines for them. Or why couldn’t I do random check-ins at various points? Deadlines don’t always have to be set in stone before the start of the semester; that’s just something I assumed, but not doing so would eliminate the burden on me of advanced scheduling. Why couldn’t I involve students’ peers in providing feedback and evaluating progress? I don’t have to be the only one doing all of this work. I love these ideas. And I’m sure there are more. This points to another teaching consideration that my scaffolding struggle illuminates. The beautiful power of collective brainstorming—of turning to other teachers for ideas, for support, for getting us out of our stuck thinking and illuminating new possibilities. Thank you, Daisy, Lori, and Robyn!

I hope everyone has a wonderful Winter Break.