Reflection in law teaching: a personal account

Case study by Hugh Brayne (University of Sunderland) illustrating the benefits of reflective practice for law teachers in a personal account mirroring the conversational and reflective approach advocated.

Learning cycles, deep and surface learning, experiential learning – great for students, of course, but what about for staff? Are law teachers lifelong learners? My view is that if you stop learning about your teaching you cease to be effective, and probably cease to be motivated. But where does the data come from to inform our own learning? We already (at least already should) know the theory, but are we open to learning from our experience? Questionnaire evaluations? Skim read, wheel out the analysis for the QAA, file, and forget. Staff/student committees? But everyone pulls their punches on things that are going wrong, and forgets to bring up things that for them are going well. Assessments? Yes, but they only tell us about outcomes, not processes for getting there.

But there is a wonderful source of data, and I am getting hooked on it. The data come from requiring students to hand in with their assessment a reflective journal or account on how they used the learning opportunities to assist them in achieving the outcomes. I have now had experience of this on three undergraduate LLB modules; two first year modules in which group work is accompanied by a reflective account (in one case by the individual and assessed, and in the other on behalf of the group and not assessed), and a second year module requiring a weekly journal with a short guide at the end for the marker to point out the key milestones (assessed). This second year module, called Law in the Community, is itself a very experiential learning module, as it involves students working with community organisations as well as in the classroom. The first two are typical LLB modules, although atypical in requiring group work to be submitted. My hunch is that if you can show students you are interested in what they think about their learning the approach could be used in other subjects.

While marking traditional student work can sometimes seem a chore, my eyes open wide when I start learning through the reflective account what has really been going on for students. The assignment we get to see turns out to be only the tip of the iceberg or, to change metaphor, the duck’s ability to swim seen only from above the waterline. The account tells me about the student experience at every stage, the legwork below the waterline. For example, a chance remark in a seminar can destroy or build confidence, but five minutes discussing structure for an assignment can start the student on a new direction. These things are important enough for the student to decide they should be written down. Students all saying the same thing about a particular experience can indicate reliable information on effectiveness. Experiences confined to one student can still reveal a lot, however, about how to reach the whole class and not just the majority.

Nothing in my experience before – which includes a fairly student-centred approach through clinical work – matches the feedback I get from the weekly entries in the reflective journal. Some of it massages the ego – and why not enjoy that if students like what you do? But more importantly I get hard data on the detail. What worked (typically activities which boost confidence – it’s quite amazing how lacking in confidence students feel, whatever the appearance), what worked less well (didn’t get a chance to get involved, task not explained properly, fellow student let me down). Of the summative account of the experience and the weekly journal, the journal has been for me the most informative. I get the feeling that the students quickly start writing for themselves rather than for me.

The honesty is fantastic. For example, most students had signed up to my module without a clue what to expect, and felt that the assignments had not been explained properly. I can take steps to remedy this. I could pick this up through other means, of course, but not appreciate how this can affect the students. What is it like to feel lost and confused? One student who eventually found the module very worthwhile desperately wanted to get out at the beginning, because she felt her inadequacies would be exposed. I didn’t know how to pick up the signs, but could note in the journal which things said and done helped her and which did not.

The feedback to me is useful for future years; it is about my lifelong learning rather than about quality assurance. But knowing from year to year how students are reacting can make me more open in any given year. Once students get the message that the process of their learning matters to you, the teacher, information starts to flow through other channels as well: corridors, e-mails, classrooms and hearsay.

By asking students to reflect and value the information received, you show you care, or to quote Suzanne Shale, (Director of the Institute for the Advancement of University Learning and law lecturer, University of Oxford) speaking at the 2001 Bar Vocational Course conference, you are “teaching to make a difference”.

Last Modified: 4 June 2010