Without a doubt, the single most revolutionary idea I have heard in nearly 20 years of teaching is the flipped classroom (reverse instruction) model. Embodied in any “revolution” is the promise and terror of that word. Destruction and Recreation all at once. Om, Shiva!
Ugh!!! I just lost four paragraphs!!!!! Technology giveth and technology taketh away!!!!
Alan November was the first to introduce the concept to me at the EARCOS Conference in Manila two plus years ago. I remember him showing YouTube clips of an MIT Physics professor (I think) who had somewhat flipped his undergraduate Physics classes to have lectures away from class and problem solving practice in class. The benefit, pedagogically speaking, allowed for students to be monitored in their practice rather than in their initial introduction to the concept. At first this sounded perhaps six-of-one-half-dozen-the-other but the neurological component was huge. The traditional model of introductory lecture followed by repetitive reinforcement through homework problems worked adequately when the concept was clearly and correctly understood by the students but as was often the case with challenging material, when students misunderstood a concept, repetitive reinforcement was hugely counter-productive with students establishing neural connections on how to incorrectly solve the problem. The repetition and the time between misconception and correction (even if it was only 24 hours) was sufficient to require an even longer time and greater effort to get the students to unlearn what they had incorrectly enshrined in their neural network. Clearly, the traditional method had its flaws.
With reverse instruction, the content delivery shifts and the conceptual, dendritic point of contact occurs under the watchful eye of the instructor. The benefit is that incorrect approaches or bad habits are caught before they have a chance to be reinforced so that realigned students can build effective and long-lasting neural pathways to understanding and not, like our beloved streets here in Taipei, be paved and then torn back up section by section the next day.
This promise is all well and good, but the prospect of radically overhauling ones practice requires not only a herculean effort in terms of revision of curriculum and pedagogical paradigm, but also demands the sort of “leap of faith” of which Kierkegaard spoke. And I don’t think its too far off to wax evangelical about this shift. This stuff is revelatory. What Alan November spoke of and Brian Bennett has experienced is a sort of pedagogical promised land. And there seems to be no greater sin than to have seen the truth and then turn one’s 
back on it. But it requires a leap of faith for as John Sowash says, “Now that you’ve freed up class time, you need to use it productively. This can be a challenge. You’ve spent all of your time and energy developing your lectures and now you don’t have the time/energy to develop new, innovative, interactive classroom activities. This is where I need to improve. It takes a while!
So that is the revolutionary crossroads; the proverbial road less traveled. I’ve got to say with two new courses this year, two small children and too few hours of sleep, it’s oh so tempting to say , “next year.” But as old Søren liked to say, “To dare is to lose one’s footing momentarily. Not to dare is to lose oneself.” So here’s to at least trying to lose my footing, however momentarily.
