Abstract
In this essay, we offer two personal narratives of how we innovated in our approaches to teaching and learning—our pedagogical epiphanies. The first narrative, triggered by the COVID-19 pandemic, focuses on innovating and moving from the use of a single learning process to the use of a portfolio of learning approaches that align with the learning objectives for the course. The second narrative, triggered by the instructor’s inner dissatisfaction with the level of student preparation and engagement, focuses on innovating and moving from the use of a different case each class session—a surface approach to learning—to the use of two cases for the entire semester and eventually just one—a deep approach to learning. We describe the temporal and experimental character of the caring and innovating relational processes in each narrative, the insights gained across the narratives, and the implications for pedagogical practices and pedagogical research in management education. We ground our narratives in the conceptual literatures on a process-relational ontological view of teaching and learning, pedagogical caring, and innovating. We conclude with our desire to encourage others to embrace their own pedagogical epiphanies.
Introduction
What triggers moments of clarity and opens windows for pedagogical innovation (Mesny et al., 2021) for faculty in their teaching and learning processes? We (the authors) found both common ground and differences in what we experienced and describe as pedagogical epiphanies in our teaching careers. We present narratives of what each of us describes as critical moments of clarity in our teaching practices that opened windows for pedagogical innovating and enhanced student learning.
First, we ground our respective narratives in the literature of three conceptual domains: a process-relational ontological view of teaching and learning, as well as a process-relational view of pedagogical caring and innovating. Then, we introduce the context for each narrative and present the individual narratives about our pedagogical epiphanies. In the first narrative, the first author describes her pedagogical epiphany as how the COVID-19 pandemic provided an opportunity for her to move from using a single pedagogical approach throughout a course to using multiple pedagogical approaches to address different course learning objectives. In the second narrative, the second author describes his pedagogical epiphany as how declining student preparation for and engagement in weekly case discussions provided an opportunity for him to collaborate with his students to radically redesign the course for higher quality student engagement and learning. After we present our pedagogical epiphanies, we discuss the insights gained to explain the narratives. Finally, we explore the implications for practice and research and encourage others in management education to take similar risks to challenge and change established teaching practices.
Conceptual Foundation
Three literatures form the conceptual support for our narratives. The most fundamental area for support centers on a process-relational view of reality, or ontology, where teaching and learning are viewed as ongoing temporal, relational, and contextual processes. At the same time, the process-relational phenomena of pedagogical caring and innovating are integral to our focus on pedagogical epiphanies that led to changes in our teaching practice that we used to help our students learn more effectively.
Process-Relational View of Reality
In the spirit of ontological disclosure (Walmsley, 1996), we commit to a process-relational ontology as grounding our narratives below. Teaching and learning, as highly process-relational and contextual phenomena, are grounded in an ontological view of reality that emerges from the seminal process-relational ontology of Whitehead (1929/1978; 1929; see also Hosinski, 1993) and more recent authors (inter alia, Alhadeff-Jones, 2017; Allan, 2012, 2020; Evans, 1998; Oliver & Gershman, 1989). In a process-relational view, the focus is on the temporal and inter-related character of the activities such as teaching and learning where the linguistic use of gerunds (verbs ending in—ing) conveys the active character of the ongoing processes.
Pedagogical Caring
Pedagogical caring, in the larger context of an ethic of care, is the second literature that informs our narratives. Within this literature, caring about student learning should be at the center of faculty motivation for innovating. Pedagogical caring is a relational process of caring about and for students as learners and as individuals, as well as a faculty’s own performance as a teacher and learner. Caring for, however, entails concrete activities to demonstrate care, and caring about does not (Hult, 1979). An ethic of care in the teaching and learning context, according to Noddings (1984), is a relational and processual ethical framework that takes place over time. It is an ethical way of being in the world where the well-being (Sointu, 2005; White, 2008, 2015) of the parties to the relationship as well as the relationship itself are morally paramount. When faculty engage in an ethic of care, they use their full range of embodied capabilities (Varela et al., 1991), not just their cognitive rational capabilities.
Furthermore, faculty should engage in recognition respect for all their students by virtue of their being unique individuals (Darwall, 1977). Recognition respect is also a multi-dimensional relationship between the faculty to the students, the students to the faculty, and the students to each other. Faculty should also engage in appraisal respect, where appraisal respect is accorded to individuals for the level of performance they achieve in the learning goals for a course (Darwall, 1977). In their role as faculty with a course to teach, they engage in appraisal respect to the degree that their students achieve the course learning goals—a process where they are responsible and fundamentally involved. Both recognition and appraisal respect are central elements of pedagogical caring and play a key role for faculty (Hult, 1979). Appraisal respect and recognition respect were key elements in the innovating processes in the narratives presented below.
Innovating
Innovating is considered processual, relational, contextual, and temporally dynamic (Ellwood & Horner, 2020). Additionally, innovating is the process of producing, adopting, assimilating, and implementing/exploiting (Crossan & Apaydin, 2010), as well as inventing, developing, and implementing new ideas (Garud et al., 2013). There are surface and deep organizational political norms that affect the innovating process, showing that transgressing surface and deep political norms can derail the innovating process and good innovations (Frost & Egri, 1991). Therefore, effective implementing (Klein & Knight, 2005; Nutt, 1986) is considered essential and integral to effective innovating.
One might question the shift from the organizational innovating phenomena to that of individual agents (Emirbayer & Mische, 1998) or, in the case of this essay, to that of individual faculty and their teaching-learning processes (inter alia, Alhadeff-Jones, 2017; Allan, 2012, 2020; Oliver & Gershman, 1989; Whitehead, 1929). However, one useful framing is to perceive the classroom as the organization and as organizing (McDonald et al., 2016; Putzel, 1992; Thomas et al., 2020), making the shift workable. Furthermore, teaching and learning are viewed as process-relational, iterative, trial-and-error, and political phenomena where the pedagogical innovating process is continually occurring (Christopher et al., 2017; Thompson & Purdy, 2009). Longitudinal (Langley, 1999) and narrative accounts (Pentland, 1999) of pedagogical innovating, such as the two we present below, are appropriate to convey this temporally dynamic relational process.
Our Narratives
The following two narratives adopt a process-relational view of reality, focused on teaching and learning. Although both show a focus on pedagogical caring, particularly as a motivation for innovating and implementing changes, they encompass two different contexts and faculty experiences. To begin, the first narrative focuses on the teaching and learning of full-time undergraduate students, enrolled in a large class—120+ students—at a major research university. The class focuses on the fundamental principles and basic concepts of management, a required course in the college’s business certificate program for non-business students. This emerged out of a combination of changes prompted by the COVID-19 pandemic as a change in context (Lund Dean & Forray, 2017), a unique opportunity to propose a change to the course modality based on pedagogical innovations, collaboration with members of the college’s instructional design team, and the instructor’s own standards for quality teaching and student learning. At the time of this moment of clarity, the instructor was a mid-career faculty member who had taught the course for 4 years using a variety of modalities.
The second narrative focuses on the teaching and learning of part-time graduate students working full-time, enrolled in a small class—on average 15 students—at a medium sized, teaching-oriented state university. The class was the integrated capstone strategy course, positioned at the end of a 16-course evening MBA program. This story emerged out of an intuitive dissatisfaction with the existing approach in a flash point in collaboration with the students and the instructor’s concern for quality learning. At the time of this moment of clarity, the instructor was a mid-career faculty member who had taught the course for 14 years.
Narrative 1
In Spring 2021, I (Jennifer) experienced a moment of clarity in teaching. By this point, I had taught the course nearly a dozen times. Each fall and spring, my course enrollment ranged from approximately 120 to 180 students and each summer, my course enrollment ranged from approximately 25 to 60 students. Also, I had experiences with designing (and redesigning) and teaching the course in three different modalities—in-person, online asynchronously, and online synchronously. Although the in-person mode was the traditional mode of delivery prior to the COVID-19 pandemic, it was increasingly clear to me that the course could be delivered effectively in different ways.
For example, in-person sessions worked well for facilitating a think-pair-share activity that is then followed by a class-wide discussion. They were also effective for facilitating experiential exercises such as role plays. For example, role plays were used to practice how to apply the Collaborative Conflict Resolution Model (Lussier, 2021, p. 395). The interactive nature of these sessions mirrored that of a professional development workshop, familiar to most undergraduate students involved in student organizations at the university.
Also, the online synchronous sessions worked well for completing teamwork in breakout rooms, as well as hosting and interacting with remote guest speakers and panelists. Rather than relying solely on those guests who could travel to campus to discuss the topic of business ethics or entrepreneurship, I could invite a wide range of individuals—from around the world—to visit my virtual classroom. The format eliminated travel time to campus for my guests, and the online chat feature (via Zoom) provided a convenient way for all students to ask questions, in addition to raising their virtual hand.
Furthermore, the online asynchronous sessions worked well for completing some readings and module coursework independently, particularly for parts of the course with heavier content. The module coursework involved viewing three or four short screencasts or online videos (typically 7 minutes or less), completing practice quizzes or mini-graded quizzes, and contributing to online discussions. Students could read and take notes at their own pace, and if needed, view the videos multiple times. Additionally, all students could participate in the online discussions, taking the time they needed to compose their questions and responses. By building in this time for students to complete the readings and module coursework independently, students could remember and understand—the first two levels of Bloom’s Taxonomy Revised (Anderson & Krathwohl, 2001). We could then move onto the higher levels of apply, analyze, evaluate, and create in Bloom’s Taxonomy Revised during our in-person and online synchronous sessions. Such scaffolded learning (e.g., Puntambekar & Hubscher, 2005; Reiser, 2004; Rosenshine & Meister, 1992; Wood et al., 1976) is recommended for facilitating the students’ development through the six levels of Bloom’s Taxonomy Revised (Athanassiou et al., 2003).
My Pedagogical Epiphany
Such a realization about the different ways to effectively deliver the course content and how to combine these ways only became apparent to me during the pandemic—a silver lining I encountered during this challenging time (Lund Dean & Forray, 2020, p. 402). When the walls for the course were in effect removed because of the pandemic and I shifted to teaching in a remote synchronous format, I needed to think differently about how I approached my courses and my students.
Prior to the pandemic, for example, I did not provide students with the opportunity to develop their teamwork skills in this course. In fact, it was not even one of my learning objectives. Previous research argues that “the use of teams in large classes to encourage active learning is well-documented” (O’Connor et al., 2021, p. 743). It just did not seem logistically feasible to coordinate teamwork or team assignments with 120+ students in a large lecture hall. After experimenting with online breakout rooms in smaller classes in Fall 2020, I decided to try using them in this online synchronous course—in conjunction with a team project—in Spring 2021. I reserved at least five class sessions, where a portion of class time was dedicated for students to work with their assigned team on a specific activity related to that session’s topic in a breakout room. Most of the activities also contributed to some part of the larger team project. The assigned team structure and the dedicated time in class afforded the same group of four or five students the opportunity to work together to make progress on their team project. After each work session, the students also submitted a deliverable such as team project progress reports (one submission per group). At the end of the semester, the small groups submitted the team project—valued at 10 % of their course grade. The group members also provided individual team member evaluations, where in some cases, the peer feedback increased or decreased individual members’ grades on the project.
For me, the time in class provided the opportunity to engage in “management by walking around” (MBWA; Lussier, 2021, p. 539). I used this time to observe and listen to the groups in terms of how they conducted their team meetings. I could then report on my observations and offer coaching feedback to the larger class, when we reconnected in the main room in Zoom. Additionally, I was available to the groups to find out what was getting in their way or slowing them down in terms of the team project, coaching them when needed, and removing stumbling blocks that were preventing them from being successful with the activities (Lussier, 2021). The teaching assistants and the research consultants from the library (a campus partnership in the team project) also attended our virtual classroom and used this time to provide the groups in the breakout rooms with real-time answers to their questions.
In general, the breakout rooms served as an effective conduit to introduce teamwork and complete a larger team assignment. Some groups were more active in their breakout rooms than other groups. For example, some groups were quiet and opted not to turn on their cameras. Other groups opted to turn on some or all their cameras. Some groups also shared their screen with me, providing me with clear insights into their work session when I visited their breakout room. Some groups decided to meet in-person and sign into the virtual class so that they could still access me, the teaching assistants, and the research consultants in the breakout room. The breakout rooms—during class time—enabled me to introduce teamwork into the course, as well as apply a scaffolding approach (e.g., Puntambekar & Hubscher, 2005; Reiser, 2004; Rosenshine & Meister, 1992; Wood et al., 1976) to complete the team project. The deliverables submitted after each work session and the individual team member evaluations at the end of the project (O’Connor et al., 2021) also fostered accountability and served as useful and motivating tactics to keep many group members engaged in the breakout room meetings.
Implications of My Pedagogical Epiphany
At points in this course, I addressed topics of strategy, structure, and innovation, and reminded my students that “[s]tructure commonly follows strategy and tends to change with innovation” (Lussier, 2021, p. 191). However, in many instances, structure will significantly affect strategy in a reciprocal influence. It was only during this time of rethinking my courses that I realized this same message should apply to my course. I asked myself: Can I use my learning objectives to determine the appropriate mode or pedagogical configuration for course delivery, in the same way that a firm might organize resources to align with its strategy? I did not believe that one course mode was necessarily better than another; instead, I had this moment of clarity that the mode should follow the learning goals for the course. For example, one of the course objectives is to: Develop your management and leadership and teamwork skills. I discovered one of the ways that students could develop their management and leadership and teamwork skills was by engaging with their peers in a group setting, creating a team profile and charter, participating in a team building activity, and completing a team project (e.g., Alie et al., 1998; Michaelsen et al., 2002). A remote synchronous class session—particularly in a large-enrollment course—provided a productive space for initiating and facilitating teamwork time in class.
Another one of the course objectives is to: Discuss examples of the internal and external environmental factors of an organization, as well as the management functions in the world around us. I discovered one of the ways that students could discuss examples in the world around us was by conversing in an online discussion forum referencing current events from news stories, as well as drawing on their own observations and experiences. I found the online forums, and perhaps the time provided to engage in this exercise, enabled many students with the space to appropriately research and reflect on examples in the world around us. I found asynchronous coursework provides a means for facilitating these discussions and this level of engagement.
Furthermore, another one of the course objectives is to: Apply management principles to your group projects, student organizations, sports teams, employment opportunities, and your daily interactions with others. Prior to the COVID-19 pandemic, one of the ways that students could apply management principles was by engaging with their peers and instructor through in-person activities—practicing or demonstrating the principles. So, during this time of change, some aspects of this type of engagement remained. For example, the students could demonstrate how to manage a meeting by drafting a meeting agenda (under the organizing function of management) or practicing stress management by way of a mindfulness exercise (under the leading function of management). I found an in-person class session continued to provide a means for facilitating opportunities for this type of interaction and application.
Considering my moment of clarity, in the Summer 2021, I submitted a request to my department chair and dean’s office to change the course modality based on pedagogical innovations recognized as more effective in the new mode. The chair and the dean accepted my proposal. In Fall 2021, I launched my course in a hybrid format, with approximately 75 or more of the class online asynchronously on certain days or synchronously on certain days and 25% of the class in-person on certain days.
Current State
At this point, I have now taught the course in the new mode in four complete semesters. When we have asynchronous classes, students complete the readings and module coursework independently. We do not meet in-person or on Zoom. That said, I am in my Zoom office during our allotted class time to meet with students who have questions about the course material (another moment of clarity, in how I can make a large class feel small). In fact, regular virtual office hours and “multiple sets of office hours” (O’Connor et al., 2021, p. 750) can aid in facilitating feedback to virtual teams or team representatives. When we have remote synchronous classes, we all meet on Zoom for live class meetings. During these sessions, students work with their assigned team in a breakout room, interact with remote guest speakers and panelists, and participate in some live lecturettes. When we have in-person classes, we all meet in-person for class meetings. There is no Zoom option. During these sessions, students participate in discussions and intentional, interactive exercises related to the course material. I even refer to these in-person sessions as professional development workshops and resume builders, considering the hands-on focus of these sessions. Most sessions also conclude with a graded reflection prompt.
These changes provide me with the opportunity to deliver a large-enrollment course, using asynchronous and synchronous practices that emerged as effective during the pandemic in combination with some of the practices more commonly associated with small enrollment courses. Additionally, this shift to combine online learning and in-person instruction is consistent with findings related to student learning preferences (e.g., Hawk & Shah, 2007), and likely future trends in higher education. Reflections from student learning experiences with technology during the pandemic further indicate “that quality learning experiences can and do occur in practically every combination of learning environment and course modality” and “institutions should continue offering courses in a variety of formats to meet what we expect to be increased student demand for options” (Brooks, 2021, par. 8) and arguably, a demand for “caring, student-centered, and adaptive pedagogies” (par. 10).
It may be too early to effectively garner students’ responses to the changes, as we are still in a transition period relative to the pandemic. There seems to be for some students, a fatigue with online learning and the expectation that the same—arguably, passive—approach that some followed during the height of the pandemic in high school or early college or even on some internships, still applies today. Relatedly, some students shared on my student evaluations of teaching that they still expect a large-enrollment course like this class should meet every class session in-person, and that they should learn by listening to the instructor lecture on the assigned readings for that class session. Even before the COVID-19 pandemic, some students (in majors other than business) shared with me in class that they were not accustomed to participating in class. They were most familiar with listening and taking notes during a lecture. So, for this sub-set of students, there is a need for me to continue to clarify and explain the relationship between the course goals and objectives and the course configuration. With my multiple pedagogical approaches, I also try to consider the different learning needs that my students possess. Additionally, there is arguably a need to provide more support around “managing self-paced learning” that “requires motivation and time management” (Leigh & Edwards, 2021, p. 825).
Furthermore, I am finding that I may need to do more to support students in their transition from their previous online learning experience to the class community that I am trying to cultivate—one that also reflects the environment of a hybrid workplace that they may pursue in the future. This may mean providing resources about how to engage in an online class, how to conduct an online meeting, how to build relationships and create “a culture of trust and respect” (O’Connor et al., 2021, p. 748), and even how to develop virtual charisma (Peretz, 2020), to name a few. Because the class format is different from that of other courses, there are also some students who find the schedule confusing initially, and so “multiple forms of clear and consistent communication” was important (O’Connor et al., 2021, p. 747). I have implemented a variety of communication tactics to assist with clarifying how or when we meet: creating a quick reference course schedule that lists the schedule in a color-coded format, sending an e-mail every Sunday that looks at the week ahead, and sending a very brief reminder e-mail before our classes regarding the meeting modality. In addition to these observations, the comments on student evaluations of teaching (see Appendix A) tend to reinforce my intent for and approach to the course design.
Narrative 2
In Fall 1986, I (Tom) had been teaching the integrative capstone strategy course in an evening MBA program for part-time students, using a different case each week since 1972. I was inspired by my experiences as a student and case researcher at the Harvard Business School to use the case method. I then had the reputation for being a demanding and rigorous professor based on my own thorough analyses of the cases and the extensive written summative feedback (e.g., Hattie & Timperley, 2007; Hunsaker, 1983; Michaelsen & Schultheiss, 1988) that I provided to students. I offer a brief examination of the case method before presenting my pedagogical epiphany.
The Case Method and Cases
The case method (e.g., Anderson & Schiano, 2014; Andrews, 1953; Charan, 1976; Christensen & Hansen, 1981/1987; Christensen et al., 1991; Dooley & Skinner, 1977; Ellet, 2007; Erskine et al., 1981; McNair, 1954; Stewart & Winn, 1996; Towl, 1969; Wasserman, 1993) focuses on using a case for engaging students in the learning process. Using a case includes: (1) for a portion of a class session to illustrate a specific theory, model, or concept; (2) for an entire class session to provide opportunities for analyzing; (3) for multiple class sessions when the case is appropriate for differing disciplinary topics (Gallos, 1992); or (4) for the complex use of cases (Cohen, 1981) for an extended series of class sessions, including the entire course length, using a single complex, multiple issue, cross-functional case for integrating across functions (Henry, 1958) and/or developing deep learning (Boyce et al., 2001; Egan, 2010; Goodfellow et al., 2016; Quinn et al., 2019). An instructor’s competency in using a case is a function of the pedagogical skills and teaching/learning repertoire of the instructor, as well as the instructor’s experiences in managing and organizing in the business or organizational workplace (Argyris, 1980; Berger, 1983).
The case is a description of an organizing and managing situation. It can be a written case of varying length and complexity, a video case, a spontaneous live case development, and/or a student-generated case (Ashmalla & Crocitto, 2001; Kagan, 1993). Sources of cases include case catalogs from universities such as Harvard, Stanford, and Virginia; journals such as Journal of Case Research, Business Case Journal, American Journal of Case Research, and Journal of Applied Case Research; textbooks containing cases; and internet sources. The case, however, is limited by the perspectives of the case writer or invited guest, as well as the perspectives offered in the case that the students are expected to take: the managers in a for-profit organization or the organizers in a non-profit context. Except where the use of the case is intended to require the students to seek additional information outside of the case (Naumes & Naumes, 1999), many of the more lengthy and complex cases can contain errors and inconsistencies and selectively omit and exclude evidence that could be used to enhance the description and potential analysis of the case situation. Finding and correcting those errors and omissions require a deep familiarity with the case and the development of an erratum and an addendum to the case by the instructor.
The case method and the case are deeply inter-dependent. A highly competent case method instructor can take a mediocre case and make it a highly effective basis for learning. On the other hand, an instructor who is poorly prepared regarding the case and who has limited, or poor pedagogical skills can bungle the use of a very good case.
My Pedagogical Epiphany
During the 1984 to 1985 academic year, I began to sense a vague uneasiness about my capstone course but could not clarify it any further. During the 1985 to 1986 academic year, the sense of unease became stronger and, in a broad sense, pointed to something about the configuration of the course and the students’ responses to the configuration. Then, midway through Fall 1986, the awareness became clear to me in the middle of a class session. The awareness came on me like a wave of realization: the students were not sufficiently prepared for the case discussion and only some were actively engaged. We were leaving much of the analysis potential of the case unaddressed.
I called a timeout to the case discussion and shared my concerns with my students. I expressed my disappointment with their lack of preparation and engagement in the analysis, as well as the quality of their contributions to the analyses. After my remarks, there was silence in the room for about a minute. Then, as if the sharing of my concerns had given them permission to do the same, the students began sharing with me their concerns about the demands of the course. They indicated that I assigned them a new case each week which meant becoming familiar with a new body of evidence each week and developing an analysis from scratch. Furthermore, the time required for the students to prepare the overall analysis for discussion in the class required more time than the students were willing to give. The students all said that they had full-time jobs, families, and other responsibilities. They had to compromise on time allocation somewhere, so they shortchanged the preparation in my course.
I was silent for a minute or so, absorbing what they had said, and trying to think of what to do next. I finally said to them: “It certainly looks like we have some common concerns. What are we going to do about this situation?” I put the emphasis on the we.
There was another silence of several minutes. I waited for my students to respond. Finally, a young woman in the back of the class quietly suggested something that went like: “Why don’t we take one case and develop it in-depth over the rest of the semester? You can pick the case, but we will have just one case to develop a much greater familiarity with the evidence and more time to devote to the analyses and recommendations. And we should be much better prepared to engage in the discussion.”
There were nods and murmurs of support for the idea around the room. Several students openly expressed their support of the idea. I asked how we could approach the need for assessment. Another student suggested that we could do a preliminary analysis halfway through the in-depth analysis. Again, there were murmurs of support for the idea. I then added that I would provide my usual extensive developmental feedback (Shute, 2008) but would give an unofficial scaling grade that did not count. Only the grade on the final case analysis—submitted at the end of the semester—would count. There was enthusiastic support for the idea of a scaling grade on the first analysis that would not count toward their final grade.
I asked each student if there were any more suggestions or any objections. There were none. Then I asked every student if they supported the change. There was unanimous support among all the students for the change. I then picked the case for the next week, gave the students a few hints on where to start their analyses, and dismissed the class.
The rest of the semester went well beyond my expectations. All the students were active participants in the case discussion each week. The quality of their contributions to the discussions was significantly higher than I had previously experienced. They were highly enthusiastic about receiving extensive formative developmental feedback (Shute, 2008) on the preliminary written analysis (with an unofficial scaling grade), administered at the halfway point of the case analysis. Also, the final case analyses were all of varying high quality. At the end of the semester every student encouraged me to discard the new case each week model and change to just two cases for the semester. I was in total agreement with them and did just that for the Spring 1987 semester and beyond.
Implications of My Pedagogical Epiphany
The new 1987 two-case model—what I called the deep analysis of a single complex, multi-issue, cross-discipline case, or deep learning approach (Egan, 2010; Entwistle, 2001; Leonard & Swap, 2004; Lugenbehl, 2003)—as opposed to what I called a surface approach to case analysis, became my pedagogical signature for the next 23 years. Furthermore, the focus of my professional development shifted from the content of the wide strategy domain to the integration (Henry, 1958) and the relational processes domain of effective teaching and learning. My professional reading focused on such questions as “what is learning,” “what is knowing,” “how do we know when someone has learned,” and “what are the teaching and learning processes that generate quality and deep learning.” I developed an extensive library of books and articles on those questions, the case method, and more.
With a more highly focused attention on having the students engaged in the case discussion, I realized in 1990 that I was not giving students developmental feedback on their contributions to the in-class discussions, even though they received a grade for their engagement. After experimenting with several approaches for doing so for a year and discussing the issue with the students, I developed a format of providing each student with one paragraph of developmental feedback and a grade for each class session. I provided each student with a printout each week that accumulated their feedback and grade as the semester unfolded.
In Fall 1996, I once again faced another but smaller crisis. Two of my three sections of the capstone strategy course were not ready to move on to the second case as the quality of their first case analyses was lacking. As a result of that dilemma, I asked each of the two sections to discuss and vote on whether to go on to the second case. One section voted to go on and the other voted to stay with the case we had been working on for the first half of the semester. The latter section worked out so well, that I decided to move from two in-depth but different cases per semester to one case per semester the following semester. I configured the semester with two unofficially graded preliminary case analyses before the final graded case analysis. In weeks 7 and 11, I provided extensive formative developmental feedback (Shute, 2008) before the final case analysis, with the feedback on the second analysis presenting an unofficial scaling grade. Then, in week 14, when the students submitted their final case analyses, I continued to give extensive developmental feedback on the students’ written analyses and their weekly contributions to the case discussion, as well as a formal final grade on the analysis. That course configuration lasted until I retired in 2009.
The deep analysis of two complex, multi-discipline, multi-issue cases over the course of an entire semester (1987–1996) and a single complex, multi-discipline, multi-issue case over the course of an entire semester (1997–2009) gave me the opportunity to engage in several critical pedagogical processes that were only briefly or not at all available under the surface approach. First, that ongoing engagement with a single complex case allowed us to delve deeply into the process of making assumptions that underlie the analyses and proforma projections integral to making recommendations for the future. My students were unfamiliar with the concept of assumptions and how they can shape analyses of the current situation, as well as the proforma financial analyses and the recommendations that flow from them. Second, using a single complex case for the entire semester allowed time for discussing alternative assumptions and examining sensitivity analysis, as well as justifying the assumptions that finally emerged as endorsed by the students. Third, using a single case for the entire semester also allowed the analysis of multiple issues in the case, something that was not effectively possible if analysis of a case was limited to a two-hour session. Fourth, it became clear that many of the students had not learned and/or retained the material and analysis competencies that they had been introduced to and supposedly developed in previous courses. This learning deficit required occasional mini-lectures (Bligh, 1998) to review the missing material and competencies. Fifth, a deep approach to case analysis offered time for group scaffolded learning (e.g., Palinscar, 1986; Pea, 2004; Puntambekar & Hubscher, 2005; Reiser, 2004; Rosenshine & Meister, 1992; van de Pol et al., 2010; Wood et al., 1976) when it was apparent that most or all the students needed further development in the deficient area. Formative feedback, examples, storyboarding, smaller parts of the analysis, hints, visual charts and diagrams, and modeling—all part of the rich scaffolding process repertoire—became regular elements of the teaching and learning process in the course. Furthermore, since the students had not yet experienced this deep case approach to learning in the program, it was incumbent on me to scaffold them into this new and demanding semester-long relational process of deep learning. Finally, key to that relationship was developing a safe environment for my students to risk their ideas—even partially thought-out ideas—as well as a culture of respect from me to them, them to me, and among them. This included a comfort level with the use of silence (Zembylas & Michaelides, 2004) for the students and me.
In addition to the considerations described above, the innovating moves to a deep use of a case and a deep approach to the case analysis carried several tradeoffs. First, the students were not exposed to several different firms and industries. The compensating benefits, however, included a deeper exploration of the case evidence and the subsequent extensive development of the analyses. Such deep exploration and extensive development included discussions on assumptions and sensitivity analysis and the effect that assumptions have on the recommendations. Second, instead of two different case analyses for me to grade (mid-term and final) and for the students to do without prior discussion, I had four to grade under the two-case model and three to grade with the single-case model. By way of this approach, the students received extensive developmental feedback (Shute, 2008) without being penalized, and they could address the shortcomings of their analyses before they submitted their final analysis. Finally, I found it increasingly more challenging to find cases for deep analysis. I needed to thoroughly review the cases from every source that I could find. For the students and me, though, these tradeoffs significantly outweighed the shortcomings. Comments on student evaluations of teaching (see Appendix B) reinforce the effectiveness of my deep approach to teaching and learning and pedagogical caring.
Explaining the Narratives
The two narratives provide the opportunity to examine the similarities and differences, as well as the insights gained within the moments of clarity for two instructors. Although both narratives provide a commonality of pedagogical innovating, they stand in rather strong contrast as to the contexts and the experiences of the instructor. In the first narrative, Jennifer, in collaboration with the college’s instructional designers, innovated by initiating and assembling a portfolio of online and in-person teaching and learning processes to accommodate the learning objectives for the course. The changes enhanced opportunities for small-group collaboration, as well as student-faculty consultations. In the second narrative, Tom, totally in collaboration with his students, innovated by discarding a well-established case-based course design. Tom moved from using a different case for each class session to a case-based course design focusing initially on two in-depth case analyses, and 10 years later moving to a single case for the entire semester. The two in-depth case analyses and the single in-depth case analysis offered a substantially deeper and richer analysis that mirrored the process-relational evolution of projects found in an organizational context. The new approach enhanced the students’ familiarity with and understanding of the case evidence, the coverage of otherwise difficult issues, the in-class engagement with the case discussions, and the quality of the written case analyses.
Even within these contrasting contexts, however, the narratives share several insights. The insights gained offer the basis for potential future research into the pedagogical innovating for other instructors in management education. Those common insights include the intuition for change, the intentionality of change, and the process of approaching the changes with care.
Insights Gained
Our respective contexts serendipitously offered opportunities for innovating, as our intuitions recognized those windows for change. Our caring for the quality of our courses, and especially the learning for our students reinforced our courage to develop the new ideas that were emerging. We discuss each of the insights gained below.
Intuition for Change
Bennis (2009) called for “recogniz[ing] the context for what it is—a breaker, not a maker; a trap, not a launching pad; an end, not a beginning—and declar[ing] your independence” (p. 20). More specifically, he argues for “mastering the context,” and that involves listening to (and trusting) the “inner voice” (p. 29) believing in yourself that you can make a difference. As described in the narratives, the context was generally well-defined for both of us. The context in the first narrative shows that despite traditionally teaching a course in-person and the university’s expectation to return to in-person teaching after the height of the pandemic, the pedagogical strategies—enabled by teaching in different modalities during the pandemic—could be put aside (or even forgotten) with a return to a pre-pandemic course delivery modality. Contextual changes, though, offer new opportunities for innovating (Lund Dean & Forray, 2017). The context in the second narrative shows that despite the second author being accustomed to using the case method in his courses, his students slowly emerged as less prepared for and actively engaged in the case discussions over the 14-year period. These circumstances sparked his dissatisfaction with the existing situation, motivating his willingness to risk broaching these concerns with the students.
As we considered our respective contexts, we each experienced a moment of clarity in our teaching practices. Bennis (2009) would refer to each moment as a “hunch, the vision that shows you in a flash the absolutely right thing to do” (p. 98). We followed our instincts to respond to our intuitional awareness (and perhaps, our shared, self-described perfectionism habits) that something was amiss. We moved forward with our instincts, following the “blessed impulse” (Bennis, 2009, p. 99) to identify a means for mastering the context and implementing a new vision for our respective courses and for student learning. For both of us, this meant changing the way we thought about teaching and learning, and ultimately the way that we would deliver our course material and engage with our students in their learning. In retrospect, we credit our willingness to trust the process, to believe that what we were doing would make a difference for our students and for us. We also recognize now that we practiced courage—“the action of doing the right thing” (Paniccia et al., 2019, p. 553). Courage is a process (Vail, 1988), and we embarked on this process of making changes in the face of limited or no direction and encouragement from others to initiate such changes. We further showed responsibility and care for the common good (Paniccia et al., 2019) in our teaching practice.
Intentionality With Change
Considering both of our punctuated moments of clarity, we were intentional in our approaches to design and implement the changes in each of our respective courses. First, the changes we implemented were new for us, and second, the changes we implemented were new for the students. For both of us, we asked our students to engage in courses in fundamentally different ways than they were arguably accustomed to, in terms of how they attended class and completed their coursework.
To facilitate learning in the way that we intended, we needed to be intentional about the changes we were making, and we needed to show our care and support in the change implementation process. For the changes in the course modality, in the first narrative, for example, Jennifer created a Frequently Asked Questions about the course. Jennifer also created a course introduction video, describing the hybrid course mode and meeting schedule, and embedded it into the course orientation materials, located in the course management system. The video explicitly described how and why Jennifer would be using each modality to move throughout the course, highlighting the intentionality of the course design. Such tactics were particularly important for the first couple of times when Jennifer taught the new course, as she responded to questions from the students about her expectations, particularly in terms of how she would engage with the students and how they would engage with her and their classmates. For the changes in the case method process in the second narrative, Tom began the first session with a brief introduction about how to engage in a case discussion. He then discussed the responsibility that students have in fostering a safe environment so that everyone can engage in the analysis. Then, he went directly into the case discussion for the rest of the first session. He devoted the second session to reviewing the syllabus, further describing how to engage in and develop a case analysis, establishing the grading process, and explaining how the course material from the previous 14 courses would be used during the semester. He also provided a list of review articles and books that allowed the students to review what they were expected to use from their previous courses.
Change, Pedagogical Caring, and an Ethic of Care
We saw the innovations in our courses, initiated by our moments of clarity, as opportunities to deliver the courses more effectively, significantly enhancing the engagement of our students in their own learning processes, and notably raising the quality of learning. These motivations reflect pedagogical caring and an ethic of care in the relationships with our students, our courses, and ourselves. For the first narrative, the new approach offered the opportunity to provide flexibility to the students, considering the nature of a hybrid schedule. Also, it offered the potential to provide more one-on-one student-instructor interaction—particularly unique in a large-enrollment course—considering the opportunities to meet with student teams during synchronous sessions and individual students during asynchronous sessions. For the second narrative, the initial change to two cases in a course and, 10 years later, to one case in a course, gave the students a clear opportunity to develop a high level of familiarity with the case evidence. Moreover, submitting preliminary analyses—where there was no grade but there was extensive formative developmental feedback (Shute, 2008)—reflected a significant level of care for student learning. Even after both of us implemented the changes, we continued to show pedagogical caring in monitoring the innovating process: asking for feedback from our students and revising the initial innovations as necessary. The moments of clarity were also temporally extended as further refinements and incremental innovations emerged (or continue to emerge for the first author) to further enhance the initial pedagogical innovating.
Implications for Pedagogical Practice
Our sincere hope is that other instructors will be intrinsically motivated (Ryan & Deci, 2000) to act on changes that they, too, believe will enhance the learning experience for their students. Considering our own experiences and, more importantly, the processes we individually embarked on to reflect the impetus for our pedagogical innovations, the change processes, and the implications for the changes, we would like to offer five implications for practice, as others consider opportunities to innovate in their approaches to teaching and learning in management education. These implications can be referred to as insight, space, scope, collaboration, and politics.
Insight
Trust your instincts; if something doesn’t feel right or the course configuration doesn’t seem to be working, it probably isn’t, or at least, the course configuration may need a closer look. In the first narrative, the first author was presented with the opportunity to teach in a remote synchronous format during the pandemic, and it wasn’t that something wasn’t working in this modality. In fact, the situation was just the opposite. It didn’t feel right reverting back to the exact same way she taught the course—solely in-person—prior to the pandemic. During the pandemic, she found highly effective ways to engage the class online and felt strongly that some of those new ways should continue, coupled with some previous practices that were optimal for in-person instruction. In the second narrative, the second author observed an overt dilemma -students who, although were present for class, were increasingly not prepared to engage in a robust and deep case discussion—and realized the need for an intervention that resulted in a collaboration with the students on the change. Both narratives reflect a strong processual and relational character, tapping into the pedagogical conversations that focus on the temporal nature of teaching and learning, as well as the issue of pedagogical caring.
Space
Although our pedagogical epiphanies were more serendipitous than they were sought-after planned changes, there was the opportunity to pause and reflect on our approaches to teaching and learning. More specifically, we can use the natural pause between the end of one course and the beginning of another, and/or we can dedicate an hour, for example, each week or month, to reflect on our teaching and especially on how our students are learning. We can also use a survey, questionnaire, interviews, or other type of formative feedback (Shute, 2008) at mid-course or any time during the course to garner student input in the course. Such reflective processes for both the instructor and the students can spur a moment of clarity and, in turn, create an opportunity for change, again, a temporal phenomenon. Once we venture into the process of pedagogically innovating, we adopt a heightened awareness and empowerment for change. From there, we can continue to question routines and pursue opportunities for pedagogical change.
Scope
Related to the previous point, such moments of clarity do not need to be grand to be worthy of our attention. Furthermore, some such moments may allow for (or require) immediate action or change, and others may require additional planning and consideration, outside the scope of the current course. For example, a moment of clarity related to a specific assignment could—depending on the timeframe for the assignment—involve implementing change(s) within the current class. Or, a moment of clarity related to the course configuration could warrant a course redesign, and change(s) of that magnitude would likely require a more extensive planning, implementing, and temporal horizon. The importance of these moments—whether they are big or small—is that when we experience them, we acknowledge them, and when it is possible to do so, that we master the context (Bennis, 2009) and engage in a relational process of innovating.
Collaboration
As we experience a pedagogical epiphany on our own, we do not necessarily need to engage in the change process alone. Both narratives demonstrate the value of relational collaboration in the process of innovating. In the first narrative, there was collaboration with college staff who had expertise in and responsibility for assisting faculty with curriculum design and redesign. Such collaboration offered the opportunity for constructive feedback on the design of the innovations, as well as a check on political protocols and norms of the organization. In the second narrative, there was relational collaboration with the students. This partnership with the students was fundamental to the emerging innovation based in their shared and voiced common concerns. In fact, the idea of using a single case over the last half of the semester came from a student in the course. Then, together, the second author and the students worked through the details for how to assess the progress the students were making on their written case analysis relative to his expectation for the final analysis. At the end of the semester, the students resoundingly confirmed the value of collaborating in the change process that included his developmental feedback and the use of the scaling grade on the preliminary case analysis.
There are other ways that collaboration as a relational process can emerge or be intentionally utilized in the pedagogical innovating process. For example, collaboration may involve teaching assistants, faculty colleagues, practitioners in the field, and attendees at conferences, as well as the use of journals, books, and other similar resources. More specifically, those considering pedagogical innovating can discuss their ideas with teaching assistants and other faculty colleagues at their own institution. Those conversations would be particularly important for an instructor who teaches a course that precedes other courses in a designated program, where students are expected to complete prerequisite knowledge and skills. Additionally, innovating faculty can seek input from practitioners in the business and organizational workplace as to how the pedagogical innovation resonates with or contradicts practices and competencies for planning, organizing, leading, and controlling in management. Relatedly, faculty can collaborate with others outside their own institution at conferences and by reading journals and books that address issues allied with the innovating direction taken by the innovating faculty. The opportunity to share one’s moment of clarity with others—to brainstorm possible next steps or to test your ideas with someone else—can be instrumental in constructively responding to a pedagogical epiphany.
Politics
Jennifer in the first narrative needed to consider the political context for changing the means for delivery from a traditional, in-person course to a hybrid course. More specifically, she “tap[ped] into the deep structure [politics] by gaining the support of powerful interest groups” (Frost & Egri, 1991, p. 242). She needed to consider important questions like those proposed by Frost and Egri (1991) such as, “[Who] determines the course of innovation in [the college]? [W]ho sets the criteria? [W]ho makes the decision?” (p. 232). The pandemic created an opportunity to revisit the deeply rooted norms of instruction, and to use the circumstances surrounding the pandemic to request a change for pedagogical innovation, using the appropriate channels for collaboration, review, and approval. Tom in the second narrative did not necessarily need to navigate organizational politics to seize the opportunity for innovating.
Implications for Pedagogical Research
Throughout its long history, the Journal of Management Education (JME) has offered its readers numerous concrete pedagogical innovations intended to be adopted by others in their management courses. JME has also offered ideas and discussions that could easily spark its readers to generate their own pedagogical epiphanies and innovations—moments that we hope are eventually shared with others in this journal. Opportunities remain, however, for faculty who have arrived at those pedagogical epiphanies to share the stories (Sergeeva & Trifolova, 2018) and narrative accounts (Pentland, 1999) of their innovating relational processes. Thus, we encourage others to share their pedagogical crises and their pedagogical epiphanies and innovations. These journeys require a temporal approach—a longitudinal perspective (Langley, 1999; Orton, 1997) that utilizes narrative (Pentland, 1999) and journaling and self-reflecting—to capture the emergent and process-relational character of the moments of clarity, as well as the follow-on challenges and further innovations that may result. These journeys also reflect the caring process to foster higher quality student learning as well as the courage to engage in the innovating process. We also encourage others to share their narratives as they occur (in process). Some moments of clarity may occur in direct collaboration with students and other faculty. These voices from others can add to the richness of the narratives and stories, offering alternative perspectives to the innovation.
Finally, we encourage you—our readers—to recognize that teaching and learning are relational processes that occur over time. As such, teaching and learning are congruent with a process-relational view of reality: an ontology that should be acknowledged openly in our scholarly work (Walmsley, 1996) and the way we view our teaching and learning situations.
Conclusion
Pedagogical innovating can emerge for individual faculty in many ways. We shared two narratives of pedagogical innovating that emerged from moments of clarity as pedagogical epiphanies for both of us. The first narrative describes a significant shift from a single pedagogical process to a portfolio of pedagogical processes to accommodate the learning objectives for the course. The second narrative describes the shift from using a different case for each class session—a surface approach to learning—to focusing on deep learning through the deep analysis of two complex, cross-functional cases for the entire semester.
Although we found similarities and differences in our respective pedagogical epiphanies, we identified important themes between our two narratives. First, our pedagogical epiphanies emerged from a process that began as a vaguely sensed intuition and evolved into a clear sense that change was needed and where that change should lead. Second, clarity in the need for innovating pedagogically led to an intentionality of purpose in redesigning our respective courses and the processes by which we offered them. Third, pedagogical caring and respect for not only our students and their learning but also for ourselves and our professional integrity underlay the motivation to abandon an arguably less effective learning process and engage with more effective processes of teaching and learning. That willingness to risk and that courage to change reflect an ethic of care for the relationships we had (and continue to have for the first author) with our students and with ourselves.
Finally, we also found some important implications for pedagogical practice and pedagogical research in management education. We encourage you, too, to question your pedagogical routines and processes and to develop new pedagogical innovations that could enhance the quality of your courses, as well as the learning for your students. Pedagogical progress and enhanced student learning rely on the process of pedagogical innovating. Moments of clarity—your own pedagogical epiphanies—offer that opportunity. Seize them.
Footnotes
Appendix A
Appendix B
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
