The biggest change that I’ve made to my teaching in the past ten years has been posting review videos for my students as they prepare for exams. The playlists that I post for my students can be found at my YouTube channel. The production quality of the videos is definitely low-budget: I just placed a ruler along the top of two textbooks of equal height, balanced a webcam on the ruler to point downward, and then recorded myself as I wrote out and talked through the solutions of the review problems. I’m not going for high production value in my videos, unlike excellent sites like Physics Girl or Numberphile, since my target audience is deliberately narrow (the students in my classes and, more recently, in some of my colleagues’ classes) and not worldwide.

For what it’s worth, I have recorded roughly 650 videos, each usually between 3 and 10 minutes long, which have collectively amassed over 200,000 views since I started recording them in 2011. Not bad for your friendly neighborhood mathematician.

Posting these videos have spurred some immediate changes to my pedagogical practice. First, I no longer give review lectures in class immediately before my exams. Instead, I ask students to take a shot at completing the review problems on their own, asking them to watch the videos only to check their work or else to get the answer if they get stuck. Students are still welcome to come to me for help during office hours or by appointment, but they’re expected to watch the videos first. In my end-of-semester evaluations, my students seem to really appreciate having these videos. They tell me that they like having after-hours help while studying for their exams and that, unlike a regular review lecture, they can rewind the video and start over again if they need to hear a concept repeated.

Another positive development is that eliminating the review lectures have given me three or four hours of extra contact time each semester with my students. Rather than add new material or cram in extra examples, I’ve mostly used these extra hours to slow down the pace of my lectures and to include group activities and other forms of student engagement during class time. I’m particularly happy that I have three dedicated days in my Discrete Mathematics class when my students can practice their new (for them) techniques of writing mathematical proofs. If they get stuck, I’m around to answer questions about the mechanics of proof-writing. If they don’t need help, they can get immediate affirmation from me about whether or not their proofs are correctly written. Discrete Mathematics is our math majors’ first introduction to writing mathematical proofs, and that my students have their initial struggles with this technique in class as opposed to when they do their homework on their own time.

So I intend to maintain this practice for the rest of my career.

However, there’s been one complication that I should have foreseen in 2011 but didn’t: the Americans with Disabilities Act. This had been mostly a potential problem for me that I hid away in the deep recesses of my mind until last semester, when a student with a hearing impairment was enrolled in my class.

In my next post, I’ll discuss some humorous examples of erroneous closed-captioning of mathematical speech which were automatically generated by YouTube.