After attending some online professional development workshops this summer, I quickly realized the (short) scope of my (brief) attention span during online learning. That’s not a knock on the professional development. The workshops were well-run and thoughtfully planned. But still. It’s tough, paying attention in your own home, with all its attendant distraction. 

This self-knowledge was instructive for me as I began to plan my curriculum for the fall. It was my AP Language and Composition classes in particular I was worried about. One was scheduled for fourth block (the final class of A day) and one was scheduled for eighth block (the final class of B day). After my own experience working online all day, I had a pretty good idea of how my students would feel by the time they made it to my digital classroom, and I was worried. There’s a lot to cover in Lang, and there’s barely enough time to cover it all during a conventional 90-class school year. How could I come close to effectively preparing my students for the exam when I would only see them twice a week? Would I really try to go bell-to-bell and use all ninety minutes every time, an hour of instruction and learning lab? It seemed unproductive and unrealistic. 

As the summer ended I made a resolution: I would record my most important lessons, the lessons that had the core skills needed to succeed in Lang, and make them available for students to watch on their own time. I would make them easy to access and as easy to understand as possible.

This is different from a flipped classroom, since I would still be teaching these lessons in class. In a flipped classroom, as I understand it, students are required to watch the notes for homework, and class time is devoted to applying the skills. I wanted to have both in my class — notes and application. There’s so little time with them, though, that I knew there would be a need for students to consult the notes again. I didn’t want my students to experience the frustration of needing clarification on how to write a body paragraph of rhetorical analysis, searching for the answer on my notes, and not finding it, or maybe needing to hear me explain the notes. 

I briefly considered just posting my class recordings after each session. I’ve got a few problems with that practice. First of all, unless you somehow provide time stamps, it’s difficult for students to navigate an hour and a half of video. And unless you label each recording with the content of each class, it becomes a total mess to find specific lessons on specific skills. Then there is the video and audio quality, which is often sub-par. As a teacher, who wants to carefully catalogue bad recordings for students who will probably not watch them in the first place because of the bad quality? And on a more social level, if you are consistently providing students with recordings of the entire session, what incentive is there to show up — both literally and spiritually?  From what I’ve observed, for some students the knowledge that a class is being recorded and being posted is an excuse NOT to participate. 

My solution has been Youtube. I created a channel in August and have posted recordings of my lessons — meaning, lectures on content and skills, the stuff you need to understand to succeed. I only slightly tweak the notes so that hypothetically any student who is taking Lang could potentially benefit from the videos. (I still record my classes as required, but I never share them with my students unless requested — which has happened a grand total of two times so far.)

So far I average about a video a week. The longest has been by my most recent video, in which I go off for forty five minutes about how to prepare for a rhetorical analysis essay — a very important skill that I don’t want to feel pressured to rush into a single lesson, which may have all sorts of distractions and unexpected complications. I try to have a driving question or skill featured in each video, although deviated from that plan already in the video in which I talk with my colleague Erin Procopchat about the rhetoric of ancient Rome.  

What’s great is that it’s not that much work to make a video. My first videos I recorded myself solo on Google Meet (booo!), until the scales fell from my eyes I saw before me the celestial visage of WeVideo (yayyyy!). 

Here’s how you record a lecture. First, go to WeVideo on LCPS go. 

Hit the record button.   

Next, choose the “screen and webcam” option. (I think you could also record yourself with just the screen option, but I’ve never tried it that way.)  

Then you record your lecture. You hit the stop recording button when you’re done. 

You can then edit the video to your satisfaction. The biggest change I make is to reduce the size of my talking head over the notes.

Then you click finish in the right hand corner, have it delivered to your Google Drive, and you’re done. WeVideo sends you an email when the video is processed (time can vary, but usually it only takes as long as the length of the video). 

This video I then post to my Youtube Channel, which I can then link in my notes and share with students as needed.  

To be clear, these videos are meant to supplement students’ in-class experience, not act as a substitute for my class, which I try to make as interactive as possible. After almost two months, I believe the channel has made my life easier in a number of ways. Students who made use of my notes on how to structure a rhetorical analysis essay did exceptionally well on their out-of-class paper, and they credited the ease of following along with the notes as they worked through their own essay. The channel can also help with remediation. If I have a student struggling with analysis, I first discuss the skill with them, then I can also offer them the fifteen-minute video on that exact skill for them to watch as they work on their next assignment. 

Do I think these notes are going to go viral and make me rich with YouTube ad money?

Yes. 

Do I think I’m going to become a new form of online influencer from my YouTube channel, a rhetoric-pedagogy influencer?

Yes, I do. 

Has my extended time in front of the computer warped my perception of reality? 

Possibly.