Chapter 7: Carstens et al., 2016
"Participating in class discussion can also facilitate an understanding of course content (Murry & Lang, 1997), a deep approach to learning (Kember & Gow, 1994), critical-thinking skills (Garside, 1996), and an appreciation for diverse perspectives (Brookfield & Preskill, 2005). Additionally, participation has been linked to increased motivation and self-reported gains in character development (Kuh & Umbach, 2004). Perhaps most important from the students' perspective, participation appears to elevate course grades (Voelkl, 1995)."
Carstens, B. A., Ciancio, D. J., Crabtree, K. E., Hart, L. A., Best, T. L., Trant, E. C., ... Williams, R. L. (2016). The effects of voluntary versus called-on participation on response rate in class discussion and performance on course exams. Scholarship of Teaching and Learning in Psychology, 2(3), 179–192. doi: 10.1037/stl0000061
***
LAYLA
It takes me a whole month into the semester to realize that Dr. Hall's office is literally right next to Dr. Zabina's.
It's the last Tuesday morning of September when I step off the (finally, functional) elevator to the 5th floor of the psych department so I can meet with Dr. Z about my thesis.
It's a standard, fifteen minute check-in to confirm a couple things with him before beginning to select some parameters for my questionnaire about sexual attitudes and sociocultural backgrounds.
As I'm leaving the meeting, shutting the door behind me, I find none other than the enigmatic, ridiculously attractive Dr. Hall standing a few feet to my left, sifting through a keychain to unlock the adjacent office.
Those coppery-hazel eyes, a bright, captivating colour I've never seen before, flit up to settle on my face and I feel a warm tingle slide across my skin. He quirks a dark eyebrow and his lips curve up a little at one corner.
"Morning, Dr. Hall," I greet casually, willing my voice to sound normal and indifferent even though my heart-rate has skyrocketed.
"Morning, Layla."
Ugh... my name, in that low, husky voice... Heat floods my lower gut at the sound of it. It's way too early in the day to need a change of panties.
He swings his office door open but leans a little against the doorframe, gaze still focused on me. "How was your weekend?" There's something... dark sparkling in those eyes of his, something I could only begin to guess the meaning of.
"Productive, I suppose." I got all caught up on last week's notes and assignments, attended a couple meetings, helped put some postings out for research participants for Dr. Chandler's study that I'm RAing for. "Any luck finding an RA?"
He shakes his head, releasing a sigh. "Nope." I try my hardest not to blatantly check him out, which is really frigging difficult. Dark-washed jeans, white t-shirt, a loose-fitting black leather motorcycle jacket. He's carrying his helmet, the strap hooked crooked finger, and has a small black shoulder-bag slung over one arm.
I guess he really does ride his motorcycle to school.
With a crooked little grin he asks, "Haven't reconsidered my offer, have you?"
I chuckle, shake my head, give him a shrug. "Sorry." Besides the fact that I literally don't have time, I just... don't think working for him would be such a good idea, when I can't seem to keep my head out of the gutter. "But, there was a UPSA meeting yesterday. I got a committee in place to start planning that research skills workshop. We've scheduled it for the end of the month."
"I guess I'll have to wait until then to hire someone," he muses. I swear there's something wicked tugging at the edge of his jaw when he says, "Too bad, because I could use an extra set of hands."
Oh, how I would love to give this man a 'set of hands'. In his hair, over his rock-hard abs, down, sliding beneath the edge of his pants... "Something tells me you're... fully capable of taking care of yourself," I tease, chewing on my bottom lip.
Now he's grinning for real. A crooked, sparkling, dangerous grin that lights me up from the inside out. "But where's the fun in that?"
Our innuendo-filled conversations are becoming almost too much for me. Being witty and sharp and suggestive takes too much brain power before nine in the morning. "No fun at all, I agree." Even with the vibrator that finally came in the mail on Friday night. I just miss the entire experience of it, you know? The sweat, the skin-on-skin, the sweet and salty taste of masculine flesh, the groans and grunts of ecstasy... "I have to get to class. See you later."
"See ya."
Why does he have to be so damn irresistible?
***
That same afternoon in Dr. Hall's class we have our first of five group discussions, each worth 3% of our grade. I guess the idea of the discussions is to demonstrate that we've been thinking more deeply about the subject material. You know, Bloom's taxonomy, all that crap. He is a psychologist, after all.
Hailey and I pair up with another two students, James and Mariam, who I know are both fourth year psych majors. I've definitely had classes with them in the past. The topic of today's discussion is about the effectiveness of current research methods to accurately study human sexual behaviour. Dr. Hall gives us 15 minutes to discuss and come up with some main points that we'll then have to share with the entire class.
Our group nominates me to share a summary of our discussion, surprise surprise. I don't mind. I'm a classic over-achiever and I like people to know that I'm intelligent and competent and articulate. And, I won't pretend I don't care what Dr. Hall thinks of me, too. Especially given his apparent disdain for undergraduates as a species.
"Alright, who wants to share first?" The devil himself leans casually against the long table at the front of the room, arms crossed, legs extended. His so-far-unidentified black tattoo peaks out from beneath the left sleeve of his t-shirt, the dark ink a stark contrast against his smooth, golden skin.
I wonder if he has tattoos anywhere else, and imagine peeling that plain white T up off those gorgeously toned abs to find out.
Uh, back to the present.
I roll my eyes at the awkward silence that immediately follows his request. Don't people understand that if you go first, your ideas can't be taken by others and you're automatically guaranteed a better grade? Maybe most undergrads are stupid.
I raise my hand and Dr. Hall doesn't look surprised as his piercing gaze wanders over to me. He tips his chin towards me. "Go for it. Just a few points to summarize your major findings."
"Well, we discussed the barriers to standard experimentation, which is limited due to the sensitivity of the subject matter. However, there are obvious, serious disadvantages to relying on self-report measures as a basis for models about behaviour." I shrug, realizing that in a way I'm criticizing his research methods, and that he probably comes across these issues every day as he attempts to study deviant sexual behaviour. "People are unreliable observers and there's obvious bias in surveys and questionnaires because participants are likely to want to portray themselves more favorably, and are less likely to report socially unacceptable behaviour."
Which would be an obvious problem if your entire study was about sexual deviance.
"What solutions did you propose?" he asks.
It's probably not the right time to get cheeky with him but I can't help it when I smile, "If you want us to troubleshoot your research methods for you, Dr. Hall, shouldn't we be compensated?"
The room breaks into chuckles. I think my borderline-impudence amuses him. Surprises him, because I'm sure he pegged me for a law-abiding, by-the-book Type A control freak. But if the small, lopsided smirk playing at the edges of his inviting lips is anything to go by, I'd say he doesn't actually mind. "Well, considering that I do get to decide what grade you receive in this class..."
He's got me there, I suppose. Our eyes meet and a silent, private challenge passes between us for a short second. I can just imagine him whispering, low and rasping, that my impertinence should be punished. Except I'm sure my response would be daring and just warrant further disciplinary action.
I seriously might have a problem.
"We pretty much concluded that in order for self-report measures to be useful, the quality and specificity of the surveys needs to accurately and precisely assess the variables of interest. Which requires thorough background knowledge and theory to be incorporated into the test questions. To ensure their construct validity, essentially."
He nods in agreement. Quirking an eyebrow, he asks, "So, what kind of sources would a researcher turn towards to observe sexual behaviour in a naturalistic setting in order to create well-informed research surveys?"
His eyes bore into mine and there's a dark, excited thrill that works its way down my spine at the tiny bit of mischievousness I'm sure flits at the margins of his plain expression.
"I guess it depends on how dedicated the researcher is," I quip smoothly. I swear I get an unhealthy amount of satisfaction from the fire that flashes across his face when I'm so brazen with him. Except I explain, more seriously, for the sake of our grade, "You could rely on more generalized reports from people who are comfortable sharing their experiences." A beat before I add, completely unnecessarily, "Or, perhaps personal experience."
More laughter. His tongue darts out for a quick second over his bottom lip, wetting it just a touch and setting my ovaries on fire in the process before he smiles and acknowledges, "Those are all valid points, Mitchell. Good work, you guys. Who's next?"
He catches my eyes one last time with those smoldering amber orbs of his before turning his attention to the next group. I suddenly can't wait for the next time I get the excuse to run into him and continue our flirtation in person. The adrenaline rush from it is more fun than I've experienced in a long time.
Hales leans in close to me and whispers airily, "Someone's in a sassy mood today."
I quietly reply, "Just one of those days."
Really, something about Dr. Kayden Hall just brings out the bolder, cheekier, brattier side of me and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't fun.
Now I'm suddenly wondering about his actual research methods, and where he gets his 'background information' from as a basis for his questionnaires. Is it from interviewing people about their deviant sexual behaviour?
Or is it, like I jokingly suggested, from person experience?
If I were his RA, I'm sure I'd find out, but, like I said, I don't have time for that. Nor am I stupid or short-sighted enough to work for a guy who I can't look at without imagining in all kinds of lascivious, carnal, inappropriate situations. Especially because then, I might have to ask him to be a grad-school reference.
But I can't pretend I'm not insanely, insatiably curious.
***
A/N:
Can you guys BELIEVE that Make It Known has hit 2 million views?? 😱 Thanks again for all your love and support.
Bloom's taxonomy = a hierarchy that classifies the level of learning/understanding that took place, ranging all the way from simple remembering/understanding to deeper evaluation and synthesis.