How Do I, Flower Darby, Teach My Asynchronous Online Class?

A Few Considerations before I Start

Before I describe this class and my daily practices to advance equity online, it’s important to acknowledge a few things in brief. First, I didn’t always teach online in this way; what follows is an evolution of much that took place by trial and error in my earlier years of online teaching. Second, I am on my own personal equity journey. Through various life and professional experiences, I’ve committed to progressing toward equity-focused teaching and to helping others do the same (hence, humbly and gratefully accepting the invitation to coauthor this guide). This case study is not a perfect example; it is an honest account of a work in progress. At the end of my case study I’ll share what I would add, change, and do differently to further advance equity in this and future online classes.

Third, and of critical importance: the approach I describe may feel overwhelming to some of you, especially if you’re new to the idea of prioritizing interactions with online students. (You can’t be blamed for feeling this way; many instructors, through no fault of their own, begin teaching online with inadequate preparation and support.) Let me be clear: self-care is most important, and so is advocacy for systemic change. You’ll find these two themes throughout this guide; let me unpack them a bit in the context of my case study.

Just as you may not have had adequate preparation to teach effective and equity-minded online courses, your departmental and institutional leadership may not have had adequate preparation for administering online courses and programs. In my experience, there is a widespread belief that online enrollments are financially beneficial. There is also a widespread lack of recognition of the time and energy it takes to teach well online. So, a special reminder here: As we state elsewhere in this guide, if any practice we describe depletes you or otherwise detracts from your holistic well-being, don’t implement it. And don’t feel you need to make lots of changes all at once. Small steps enable long-term progress on your equity journey, and the practices I describe in the following pages result from fifteen years of online teaching and a combined total of twenty-six years teaching college courses. Give yourself grace to make incremental changes as you proceed along your personal teaching journey. While doing so, collaborate with your colleagues near and far to advocate for broader recognition of the time and effort it takes to teach well. All of us need a community to support us and whom we can support. Meaningful change won’t happen unless we are all pulling in the same direction.

With that, let’s dive into what a typical online teaching semester looks like for me.

Right before the Semester Begins

My Technological Fluency and Leadership online class is about how to use technology well in the workplace and in life in general. It’s the evolution of what used to be an Educational Technology class. With appropriate committee approval, I expanded the curriculum beyond teaching with technology to apply in every workplace setting, because about 50 percent of students taking this class aren’t teachers and never will be. After extensive revision, the focus is on the intentional selection and use of technology no matter where you work (think: mobile apps, productivity software like Microsoft Office or Google Suite, video conferencing systems like Zoom, specialized software such as project management websites, and classroom and online tech to support teaching and learning). And because tech pervades our everyday life, I further expanded the focus to include purposeful integration of solutions-oriented technology in home life and in community engagement (like in volunteering roles) as well.

The course is a requirement for a few different master’s of education programs and an elective option for many other master’s programs at this university. As such, it attracts a wide range of students, most of whom are working professionals, parents, engaged community members, and generally very busy people. Students in this class are usually seeking career change or advancement. It’s a small class, capped at twenty-five, and I’ve gotten to know hundreds of students over the seven years I’ve taught it. Many students tell me they fear this class and feel like they’ll be out of their league when it comes to technology. I believe that while this fear is misguided—we discuss everyday tech; it’s not a computer science or coding class—the fear is real. It’s real for my students, and I know fear and anxiety shut down learning, so I intentionally address it up front.

I work hard to both normalize and mitigate the anxiety that many students feel even before Day 1. One week prior to the first day of class, I email students, sending them the syllabus and a two-minute video. In this recorded greeting, I talk directly to—and make strong eye contact with—the camera (this helps students feel that I am looking at them, so they feel seen, which is very important in equity-focused courses). I make a deliberate effort to express warmth, friendliness, enthusiasm for the course and semester ahead, encouragement, authenticity, and approachability. In this way I begin working to reduce student anxiety, establish trust, extend belonging, and invite relationships even before we start.

In my welcome email, I also extend a sincere invitation to reach out with any questions, and lately I’ve started including my personal phone number so students can call or text if they prefer. These early approaches are based on two of Michelle Pacansky-Brock’s recommendations.¹ First, take advantage of the “high opportunity engagement zone” in the run-up to the class start date, during which time online students may experience high anxiety about what their class experience will be like and about what their instructor will be like. Second, invite students to use their cell phones to engage with class materials and with you. Students of color may have consistent access to their smartphones but be less likely than their White peers to have easy access to a laptop, Pacansky-Brock argues, so empowering students to engage on their phones can be a practical way to level the playing field in classes of all modalities.

Worried about a potential flood of reply emails and texts? That hasn’t been my experience, nor that of psychologist and teaching with technology scholar Michelle Miller.² Rather, this welcome email and the invitation to text set the tone for a caring, relationship-based online learning experience that helps to set students’ minds at ease.

In addition to the initial welcome email, I do a few other quick but important things to help my students feel like I am present with them in the room as soon as they click into class for the first time. Let me explain. When students first click into an asynchronous online class, it can feel lonely. It’s like walking into an empty classroom with the lights off and a stack of syllabi left on the table.³ Anxious students may feel unwelcome and unsupported by the very nature of an asynchronous class. To counter these feelings, I complete a few tasks in class so students feel like I’m there with them (even though I’m probably not at the exact moment they are):

• I post my video introduction in the “Introductions” discussion forum. I want my greeting to be there as soon as students log in, and I model the kind of relational approach I want students to take. In the “Introductions” forum, I prompt students to post one of their own. My prompts have varied over the years, but they all feature an invitation to students to share something about themselves—academically, professionally, and if desired, something about themselves personally, including their pronouns and their preferred name—to help build connections among the people in the class. Because my goal is to model and encourage authenticity in our newly forming online community, I never post the same introduction twice. One semester, in a moment when I was feeling particularly playful, I posted two pics from my smartphone library: one photo of me making a silly expression in a selfie I snapped for my childhood best friend, and one photo of my daughter, eight months old when I took it, making the exact same expression (except looking much cuter, of course). I’d never posted anything quite so goofy before, but I felt inspired to do so that time. The result? I’ve never seen such a lively and real response from my online students. They followed my lead and posted silly pics of their pets, creative Halloween costumes, and many other personality-revealing things—which laid a strong foundation of trust, belonging, and inclusivity in our class community. More on this foundation later in the case study, but for now I’ll say that posting these silly pictures is an example of the efforts I make to help my online students get to know me.
• I write or record an announcement (new and unique every semester) that is prescheduled to go out on the morning of the first day of class. Yes, I’ve already sent a welcome email and video, and I’ve already posted my introduction in our forum. But I would rather over-communicate than under-communicate, to combat feelings of isolation and uncertainty experienced by online students. I write (or record) this announcement, like all of my communications, with a deliberate effort to be enthusiastic, warm, and encouraging—and to provide helpful information. Like I do with my introduction post, I create a fresh announcement every semester. Students can smell a canned response a mile off. One even told me he disregards obviously canned assignment comments like he does a phishing email. Plus, I’m a different person every time I get ready to teach. Right? You wouldn’t read from a script on Day 1 in your in-person class, would you? You may follow an established lesson plan or list of talking points, but you also flex in the moment and improvise and respond to the people in front of you. I suggest you do the same online.
• I triple-check my course at a glance table, assignment due dates, that I have the correct syllabus linked or uploaded, and other logistical and technical details. Do I therefore have a perfectly accurate, updated, functioning online course? Nope. It’s almost impossible to achieve that level of perfection, given how much material appears in writing and via links in a well-developed online class. But I sure do try. And I tell my students they’ll earn extra-credit points (and public praise) when (not if) they find typos, inaccurate dates, broken links, or other errors and notify me so I can correct them. (See Unit 6 for more about course setup.)
• I review my “About Me” course page (you may have an “All About Me” video) to update photos or text as needed. Focusing on relationships is a key part of my online teaching practice. Helping my students get to know me as a real person is a critical first step. Since I’m a different person every time I teach a class, even one I’ve taught before, I take a few minutes to update my “About Flower Darby” biography (which includes professional information and personal components such as information about my family and my hobbies) and the photos on the page (including a professional headshot and also casual pictures of me in settings that convey things about who I am as a person).
• I review my “Getting to Know You” survey to make sure I still like the existing questions and add or replace questions as needed. This survey asks students for basic demographic information and invites students to share other things about themselves that take the relationship to a slightly deeper level, as recommended in Unit 4. For example, I’ve asked students if there’s anything they’re concerned about with this class, which shows that I care about them and also helps me respond empathetically if challenges arise. One semester a student told me she was seven months pregnant and had enrolled in my eight-week class thinking she’d be able to finish before the baby arrived. But the previous week her doctor had told her she may have to go on bed rest, so she worried about how this situation might play out. Knowing this information in advance helped me reassure her that I’d work with her to facilitate her completion of the class, and sure enough, she did so just fine. I also ask my students values affirmation questions such as what strengths they’re bringing to the group, what challenge they have overcome, or what accomplishment they’re particularly proud of. These types of questions, to which answers are never required, can help students feel confident in their ability to succeed.
• I open the entire course in read-only mode a few days ahead of the actual start date. (Your IT help desk may be able to do this for you, too.) Giving students access to get into the course and nose around, to see what to expect and how to plan their time, can be an impactful way to build trust and extend belonging. Talk about transparency and alleviating anxiety! Students can’t do anything before Day 1—they don’t post an introduction, take a quiz, or otherwise start the class. At this point the course is truly read-only, and all modules are open in that state. Opinions vary on whether to open all modules before a term begins, but I firmly believe that doing so is an inclusive practice, given how complex students’ lives are. Note: opening the course in this way requires that I am ready for class before the start date, which has often been a stretch for me. But it’s a compassionate and effective way to demonstrate pedagogical care for students and thereby build trust. So I make every effort to provide early access.
• I go into my calendar and block off abundant time for interacting with students during the first day and week of class. I’ll explain in the upcoming “During a Regular Week” section more about my weekly cadence for class interaction, but for now, I’ll share that I frontload lots of time for my online students in Week 1, reprioritizing and postponing other standing commitments and tasks in order to do so. It’s important to me to start off strong and to foster trust in a meaningful way through my presence and interactions in class. So I intentionally protect time in Week 1, and especially on Day 1, to do so.

Having done everything I can before Day 1 to “greet students at the door,” I feel satisfied that students will experience welcome and feel valued the minute they click into class.

On Day 1

Because I deliberately arranged my schedule to have extra time for my new students, I now spend that time productively, forming connections and building relationships, both of which are key to establishing trust and extending belonging. I want my students to know that I’m actively engaged and ready to be with them—more, that I want to be with them. Students have told me repeatedly (and have expressed on social media) that online teachers aren’t real; these students include my own daughters, who felt this way after their mixed experiences taking asynchronous online classes during COVID-19. So I show up—a lot. To demonstrate that I’m real and I’m here and I’m engaged. And that I like them. And I want them to succeed.

On Day 1, I log into class as soon as I reasonably can, sometimes even at 6:30 a.m. while having coffee—at least to check if anyone is in there yet, posting their introduction or a question in the “Questions About the Class or Assignments” forum. I even like to look at who has logged in (there’s a record you can see in varying locations depending on what LMS you’re teaching in). I continue to log in frequently throughout the day. I reply to every single student’s introduction. To be clear, I do not continue this practice of replying to every student in subsequent discussions. But doing so here is a way of “looking” directly at students, at seeing them, so I make sure every person gets an individualized response.⁴

In my Tech Fluency class, because it’s about effectively using technology at work, I ask my students to record a video introducing themselves. I used to require them to show their faces, but after one student belatedly confided in me that she posted a photo and a written introduction instead of the video because of temporary markings on her face, I stopped requiring this. I still highly encourage it; even pre-pandemic I felt that becoming more comfortable on video is an important competency for today’s workplace (for example, for job interviews and meetings). But students can opt out with a short explanation they provide to me before they post. (For more on camera use in online classes, see Unit 6.)

I also reply to emails, as well as to texts or calls, throughout the day. I answer any questions in the Q&A forum. Although I step away to do other regular daily tasks, I keep going in all day long to demonstrate my presence. (Side note: this involves publicly visible activity such as discussion posts and announcements in addition to private communications such as email or assignment comments.⁵)

On Day 3

On Day 3, I specifically check to see who hasn’t logged in yet. I reach out to each student to encourage them to do so if they plan to take the class so they don’t fall behind, and to let me know if they’re having challenges or if they have any questions. Though it sounds like reaching out takes a lot of time, it truly doesn’t. I write an individual email to each person who hasn’t yet logged in (it’s typically a tiny fraction of the class, maybe two or three students). I address the email to them personally, making sure to spell their name correctly, then paste the rest of the email text and send the message. Students who received this email have told me they feel cared for, and certainly a personal message from the instructor is highly motivating to students.

Note: addressing students by name is an important practice to help students feel seen in asynchronous classes. Names are a key part of our identities. And it’s critically important to spell them correctly (and to pronounce them correctly if you’re recording feedback or meeting by phone or Zoom). My student Flor told me it really makes her mad and that she feels marginalized when professors call her Flora: “That’s not my name,” she told me. “There’s only four letters. Why can’t they get it right?” Using a tool like namecoach.com, which allows people to record themselves pronouncing their name, can help establish an inclusive environment and foster trust and belonging.

During a Regular Week (after Week 1)

I work hard to be in class and visibly engaged a lot in Week 1, but that’s not sustainable for the entire course. In a typical week, here’s what I do:

• I log in on multiple days to post publicly (discussion replies and announcements) and correspond individually with students (email and assignment feedback). The number of days I log in depends on the length of the session. In an eight-week session, logging in to class around four days per week feels sufficient. We faculty have to remember to protect our time and boundaries so we can meaningfully engage with students. But when I teach this class in a four-week session, I try to log in six days per week because of how condensed and fast-paced the course is. No matter the duration, I always log in on one weekend day, usually Saturday. Online students tend to do a lot of classwork on weekends. Me showing up on that day is respectful of their commitment to succeed despite their busy lives.
• I aim to reply to email within one business day, on the same day when possible. I aim to return assignments with feedback within two to four weekdays, depending on the length of the session. And I tell my students these things in my syllabus and in announcements to strengthen this message, because it’s important to me that my students know that I’m here for them and when I’m available. I tell them that I’m generally not online after 6 p.m. and that I protect Sundays for my family. If I happen to respond during a time I’ve said I’m offline, that’s a bonus, but my students know that if they email me Saturday evening it will be Monday morning before they hear back from me, thus adding transparency in my availability and communication.
• If at all possible, I respond in the moment to texts I get on my personal phone. It’s important to protect my boundaries, but I also know that my quick answer will enable my student to make progress during the time they’ve set aside for classwork. Students are truly so grateful, and it prevents a backlog of email, as Michelle Miller has also pointed out, so it feels both compassionate and efficient.⁶
• I engage in quick and informal communications in varying forms, again, to demonstrate to my students that I’m there and I’m thinking about them. I love recording very informal smartphone videos and, over time, have developed a level of comfort with just how casual these can be. One online teacher I know records ninety-second video announcements while filling up her car with gas. Another greets her students from the trail where she’s walking her dog. Another records herself when she goes to a Día de los Muertos festival, for example, showing her students displays of sugar skulls. The point? Take your students with you. Let them into your life a bit, where you feel comfortable and safe doing so. Reduce the distance online. Help them see you as a real person. As online teaching scholar Karen Costa has written, online students don’t expect Hollywood-level video production.⁷ They want to see you—the same way they would if in your in-person class. Let them see you, or, if you have valid reasons for minimizing images of yourself, let them learn more about who you are as a person. My introverted husband Tim, for example, shares photos of tabletop war-game miniatures he’s assembled and painted, rather than always putting his face in front of his students.

  One other way I engage informally and in the moment is by creating a Discord server: a private space in an app where invited members can post text, voice, and video chats. Other instructors use a Slack channel to accomplish the same goal. Educational developer Maha Bali calls such online spaces the third place, an informal place to hang out with students and where they can connect with each other.⁸ I like the ease of group communication on my phone or laptop, but I’ve also learned that adding a tech tool that requires a separate account or log-in can raise barriers for some students and present data security and privacy concerns, so I think carefully about using an external app. In a class like Tech Fluency, however, it may be somewhat justifiable since our focus is on the use of tech to solve problems (in this case, the lack of real-time interaction in asynchronous classes).

• I let my students see the real me—a lot. Throughout the class (and from before Day 1, in my welcome email and video greeting) I do many different things to help my students get to know me, as we discuss in Unit 4. I write announcements and discussion posts in my “real-person” (not distant or authoritative instructor) voice. I post silly pictures of my cats. I post before and after pics of home projects that take me offline for a few days (which I announce in advance). During COVID, I told my students that I was struggling with the severe illness and eventual death of the man I consider to be my second father. I tell my students when my daughter’s health crisis is eating into the time I usually grade, as well as my plan for catching up on grading. In short, I tell (and show) my students a lot about my life—not everything, but a lot more than I did earlier in my online teaching career. As an example, I used to record formal mini-videos, dressed professionally, seated in my campus office, and generally looking pulled together and authoritative. I still record videos like these, but now I’m much more comfortable recording videos when I’m not so pulled together, like when I’m grading papers on my treadmill desk and want to share general feedback with my students—they see me red-faced, sweaty, and authentic.

  I do all these things, including helping my students get to know the real me, because interacting with and communicating with my online students is top priority. This is where I do what we recommend in Units 4 and 5: that is, extend belonging, form relationships, and foster trust. As part of this commitment, I am very transparent with my students about when I need to be absent from class for a few days, informing them that something has come up (I choose to share varying levels of detail depending on the circumstances—this works for both planned and unplanned absences) and when I will be back in class and available for them. When we acknowledge that we are only human and that life happens for us too, students feel more trusting that we’ll be empathetic when they need flexibility.

• I model authenticity to build trust in my own video discussions and announcements, being very transparent and posting a video with foibles or tongue-trips or when I’ve lost my thought for a moment (after which I’ll typically make a goofy expression and pick up where I left off). In one case a student posted her introduction video even though halfway through her cat had knocked over the plant behind her. I publicly praised her for bringing her genuine self—and this helps everyone relax and feel more at ease both with each other and with technology, thereby accomplishing two pedagogically driven goals at once.
• I stay in the weekly discussions with my students. Although I don’t reply to every student, I do reply, ideally on at least three to five separate days. Some practitioners argue that the instructor can dominate or shut down the conversation, so they shouldn’t post at all, but I disagree. After all, would you launch a classroom discussion and then turn around and walk out the door? No. I stay in the discussion, posting strategically where I can make the most impact—for example, by asking guiding questions, praising contributions, taking advantage of teachable moments that arise, gently pushing students for more, or suggesting additional resources. In fact, I tell my students that if they see me posting in the discussion, they should read or watch it, because that’s me teaching. I also rotate who I respond to in each module. I keep track on a simple piece of paper that stays on my desk while class is in session. Other instructors I know use a spreadsheet to ensure they reply to every student on a rotating basis. This kind of intentionality characterizes equity-focused online teaching. Like the use of a rubric to minimize subjectivity in grading (see Unit 2), using a tool helps ensure that are we consistently and fairly responding to each student.
• I use a simple version of Linda Nilson’s specifications grading to streamline grading of discussions and to reduce students’ focus on and anxiety about grades.⁹ All discussions in CCHE 590 are eligible to earn all five points or zero points based on whether the post meets my detailed specifications for success. A simple one-row rubric allows me to evaluate and grade points extremely quickly—and I add a quick personal comment in addition to clicking the appropriate rubric column.

Toward the end of the class, students routinely tell me this class has been their most engaging one to date. Engagement precedes learning, so keeping online students engaged is a major focus of my equity-focused online teaching practice.

Last but by no means least, I maintain a Change Log throughout the duration of the class. I find that while teaching—based on interactions I have with my students, materials, and assignments—I can identify improvements I want to make next time. But it’s hard to remember what those were once the class has ended and I have time to reflect on possible changes. My Change Log helps me gather and record data while teaching so that I can go back and reflect on it after the semester, in line with our recommendations in Unit 9.

Before the First Project

Because online students can feel challenged by the inability to raise a hand in a physical class or stay after class to ask a question, I go to great lengths, both in the course design and in my teaching, to set them up for success. I do this especially on the first major project because they don’t know what to expect. CCHE 590 has three medium-sized projects instead of one cumulative or final assessment. Performing poorly on the first one won’t sink students’ grade, because in keeping with the equity-minded grading principles in Unit 2, weekly discussions (low-stakes assessments that also encourage exploration of, interaction with, and application of course concepts) are worth an equal percentage of the final grade. But still, students experience anxiety in direct relationship to the weight of an assessment, so to alleviate that and foster deep learning, I TILT my instructions (refer to Unit 2), recording videos to explain the purpose and task of the assignment—and how to succeed. As the project due date approaches, I make an extra effort to quickly respond to student questions or hop on a call if needed. It’s amazing how much can be accomplished in a five-minute call, and as I mentioned earlier, since this quick clarification often results in better student work, it both shows compassion and saves me time when grading.

In short, my goal is to do everything I can to equip students for success as they approach the first graded assessment worth a significant percentage of their final grade.

After the First Project

As we mentioned in Unit 2, the unique moment following the first major assessment represents a specific opportunity to engage with students based on their performance. Steps I take when evaluating and working with students in this moment:

• Devoting adequate time to truly read or watch students’ submissions. Online students frequently tell me that they feel like their instructors don’t even look at their work, likely because of obviously canned comments with no attention to the individual student, which contributes to online students’ feelings of not being seen and not mattering in class.
• Taking time to provide feedback in supportive ways. I praise strengths and offer suggestions for what they can do better next time. I write or record comments with a deliberate focus on coming across as a real person, someone who genuinely cares about their success. This helps to sustain trust, which as we noted in Unit 4, is critically important online.
• Reminding students (either the whole class by sending an announcement or an individual student in private feedback) that they can use one of their three Oops Tokens to revise and resubmit, no questions asked (other instructors call these NQA passes). This is another element of Nilson’s specifications grading, and it allows me to hold students to the highest standards while also offering flexibility and empathy. As discussed in Unit 2, grading schemes and policies that encourage students to learn from mistakes and resubmit work are equity-focused. Offering Oops Tokens is my application of this principle.

As we saw in Unit 3, compassionate and equity-focused grading schemes and practices demonstrate care for the whole person. And because of their prior educational experiences, it’s likely that our students may be hyper-focused on their performance as reflected in the grade we assign. (Recall from Unit 4 that students told us grades signal their academic belonging, which impacts their broader sense of belonging.) Taking the time to offer feedback and support that are both considerate and helpful is a key way to respect our students’ sensitivity and validate their belonging at this pivotal moment.

Approaching the Finish Line and Requests for Deadline Extensions

Because I know that students who choose online courses and programs often do so because of the flexibility of the asynchronous modality, I anticipate requests for deadline extensions at any point of the semester. These requests may increase as we near the end of the course. To account for individual learner variability as well as the complexity of students’ lives, I carefully think through and explicitly state my late-work policy. I include this policy in the syllabus, and I remind students about it through written and recorded announcements when we’re almost to the end of the semester.

Although I used to be firm on deadlines, permitting no exceptions, I’ve softened on this point as I’ve progressed on my equity journey. On the other hand, it does not serve my students well to have too much flexibility, as I learned in fall of 2021 when I announced that all deadlines came with an automatic five-day grace period. Many students floundered with that approach, falling further and further behind as a likely result of my possibly too-empathetic policy. Structure with some flexibility, and explicitly stated flexibility, provides the most supportive and equity-focused approach, as other teaching and learning scholars have reminded us. So I have deadlines; I have wiggle room in the form of the three Oops Tokens students get, to be used for deadline extensions or resubmissions; and I have accountability and reward built in, as well. If students don’t use any Oops Tokens, they receive extra credit—my way of encouraging them to meet deadlines if possible.

This combination of deadlines and limited opportunities to submit work late promotes learning and progression yet recognizes that life happens. Offering these options right up front does three things. First, it demonstrates to students that I’m a real person and I see them as real people living complicated lives—again, building trust and belonging. Second, it accords a degree of privacy and respect to students: the Oops Tokens mean that I don’t need to get into personal details when life circumstances conspire against students’ ability to progress in class. Third, it acknowledges that even asking for a deadline extension is a privilege, so I normalize the opportunity to request extensions when needed. Finally, there are always exceptions, so I’ve become willing to talk with students about unusual requests. I much prefer talking by phone rather than by email about their circumstances. Because we can communicate in rich and nuanced ways when speaking, using tone of voice in addition to words, I can relate more effectively with my students that way. Further, a phone call is simpler relative to Zoom. To protect my time and boundaries as an act of self-care, I reserve phone calls for individual cases to determine what additional scheduling or other accommodation I can manage. Sometimes I can’t reconcile the request with my principles—see the following section about activities that take place after the semester ends, for example. But in general I find this blend of structure, accountability, and flexibility best supports equitable learning outcomes in my asynchronous classes.

After the Semester Ends

Wrapping up an online class is not vastly different than an in-person one, but I have noticed in my online classes more requests to submit work after the official last day. Once, for example, I received an email from a student who never logged into class—not one time while class was in session, despite multiple check-ins from me. Two days after the term ended, he asked for the opportunity to complete all work in one week. I wrestled with this request, trying to decide whether accommodating him was equity-minded, because holding our students up to our standards is also an equity-focused practice. Eventually I declined. Other times, based on varying circumstances, I’ve extended more grace and accepted work after the last day. These requests don’t tend to happen when I teach in person, leading me to believe that fully online students’ lives really are more complex, yet I truly want my students to achieve equitable outcomes. A delicate balance must be struck, sometimes on a case-by-case basis.

Otherwise, once an online class concludes, I enact strategies of the kind you will find in Units 8 and 9, so the following list is something of a preview. Here are several things I do after the semester concludes:

• Review any late work I agreed to accept.
• Respond to individual emailed questions.
• Calculate grades and submit them using the official process.
• Send an announcement to students once final grades are posted and available in class (this typically happens before they’ll see them in official registrar systems).
• Reflect on my personal sense of what went well and what I can do to foster more equitable outcomes, making appropriate notes and listing tasks in my Change Log—I maintain the log in a Word document throughout the semester and revisit it once the class has ended.
• Review my student evaluation of teaching results, applying the ideas we describe in Unit 8 to use this data source.
• Engage in overarching critical reflection, asking myself what I learned in this class from these students, and how I might therefore better support my future students in future classes.

This list appears in roughly sequential order, but of course these activities take place in less linear ways, too. I’ve found that, for me, seeing the bigger picture and practicing more effective critical reflection happen through two channels: (1) mind-wandering when doing something else (like working on chores or walking around campus) and (2) conversations with my best instructional designer and online teaching colleague, my husband, and with the students closest to me, my three teenage daughters (all of whom took online classes during COVID-19).

Flower’s Concluding Thoughts

Though I came to many of the teaching practices described previously simply because they seemed like good pedagogy, I’ve since realized many are indeed equity-focused strategies—and this course is still a work in progress. Having worked on this guide, I now see how I could enhance relevance and culturally responsive elements in the course. For example, I would add materials and assignments that prompt students to explore sites of inequity in topics related to technology based on the work of leading scholars in this area. Such topics might include digital redlining, which describes restrictions on access to technology and websites experienced in some communities; how online proctoring software disadvantages students of color, neurodiverse students, and students with physical and learning disabilities; inequitable allocation of technological infrastructure and funding in various communities; practices that perpetuate injustice in the software engineering and development; and surveillance capitalism, to name a few.

I would also add a few course components to share power with students, amplify student voice, and more explicitly assess students’ sense of belonging in my class. I would administer a belonging survey and reflect on students’ submissions both in the moment and when planning my next class. I love coauthor Mays Imad’s simple yet powerful question (which we write about in Unit 8): “What am I (or others in the class) doing that is making you feel excluded?” I would incorporate this question in an anonymous one-question survey. To prepare students, I’d record a short video that explains the importance of helping everyone feel included and welcome in class, then provide a link to a survey with that one, powerful question. I’d reflect in the moment, share back to the class what changes I intend to make in my own communication or practices, and invite students to help me be accountable to this commitment to do things differently. I’d adjust the class the next time I teach it to incorporate what I learned by talking with and hearing from my students (even asynchronously). This and other revisions to both the course and my practice may advance me on my equity journey and support equitable outcomes for my students, too. Would I do all of these things at once? Maybe not, as I seek to follow our “small teaching” advice to start small. But I would keep track of these adjustments in my Change Log and systematically alter my approach step by step.