Asking the Right Question: What Does Research Tell us About Technology and Higher Learning?

Handbook and Other Materials l Asking the Right Questions (ARQ) l Training, Consulting, & External EvaluationFAQ

Return to Table of Contents of Flashlight Evaluation Handbook

This text is adapted from an article of the same title by Stephen C. Ehrmann that  originally appeared in Change magazine, the Magazine of Higher Learning, XXVII:2 (March/April 1995), pp. 20-27. Copyright of the original article is owned by the Helen Dwight Reid Educational Foundation. This article copyright is owned by Stephen C. Ehrmann.

Table of Contents

  1. Bad Questions about the Higher Education Machine

  2. If You're Headed in the Wrong Direction, Technology Won't Help You Get to the Right Place

  3. The Medium isn't the Message

  4. Computer-Based Tutorials Are Valuable But...

  5. Worldware: Software that wasn't Designed for Instruction can be Valuable for Teaching and Learning

  6. Strategies Matter Most

  7. Tools for Evaluating Strategy: The Flashlight Program

  8. Reading List

Click here to return to Flashlight Handbook Table of Contents


"I've got two pieces of bad news about the experimental English composition course where students used computer conferencing. The first bad news is that, over the course of the semester, the experimental group showed no progress in their ability to compose an essay. The second piece of bad news is that the control group, taught by traditional methods, showed no progress either."

- Paraphrased from a talk by Roxanne Hiltz 
reporting on an early use of computer conferencing

I've been involved with innovation in higher education--its funding, its evaluation, and research about it--for twenty years, especially innovations having to do with computing, video and telecommunications. During that time I've often been asked: What do computers teach best? Does video encourage passive learning? And Is it cheaper to teach with telecommunications? I don't have answers to those questions. I don't think they can be answered in any reliable, valid way. It takes just as much effort to answer a useless question as a useful one. The quest for useful information about technology begins with an exacting search for the right questions. This essay discusses some useless questions, a few useful ones (and the findings that have resulted), and one type of question that ought to be asked next about our uses of computing, video and telecommunications for learning.



The first group of useless questions seek universal answers to questions about the comparative teaching effectiveness and costs of technology. These kinds of evaluative questions are phrased like, Do computers do a better job of teaching English composition than traditional methods?

Think about it. That question assumes that education operates something like a machine, and that each college is a slightly different version of the same ideal machine. Questions like these use the phrase "traditional methods" to represent some widely practiced method that presumably has predictable acceptable results. If technology performs better than traditional methods, such questions imply, everyone should use it. A neat picture, but traditional methods doesn't define the higher education that I know and love, nor is it the higher education that research reveals.

Postsecondary learning is not usually so well-structured, uniform or stable that one can compare an innovation against traditional processes without specifying in explicit detail just what those processes are. And by specifying in detail what traditional means (what materials, what methods, what motives), you limit your study to a very small and temporary universe. Organizationally our institutions don't behave like machines, either. Cohen and March did a classic study of presidential decision making some years back, coining the term organized anarchy to describe how our institutions function. The term describes any institution, they said, which, like the typical college or university, has:

  1. problematic goals (it appears to operate on a variety of inconsistent and ill-defined preferences),
  2. unclear technology (i.e., methods) (Although the organization manages to survive and (where relevant) produce, it does not understand its own processes.), and
  3. fluid participation in decision making (the boundaries of the organization appear to be uncertain and changing).

Sound like a machine being fine tuned toward a Platonic ideal of efficiency? To me it sounds not only like what colleges are (and ought to be) but also like what college courses are (and ought to be). Unfortunately this means one can't ask, "How well is this technology-based approach working, relative to the norm?" since there usually isn't a norm.

It also seems useless to search for global generalizations about the costs of technology relative to traditional methods. Howard Bowen, a noted economist of higher education, found that institutions of higher education each raise all the money they can, spend all they get, and spend it in ways that relate closely to the way they spent the money last year. His 1980 study found little relationship in patterns of spending even among institutions that appeared on the surface quite similar. They spent rather different amounts per student, and they spent each dollar differently. Bowen found no way to state rationally what it ought to cost to educate a student properly. Tougher economic times may have forced some convergence in costs among institutions. But we still have no rational way of describing what traditional education should cost per student.

Platonic ideals aside, it's also difficult to determine what education does cost. Prices and accounting methods vary by institution and situation. Services that are inexpensive to some institutions are quite expensive for others. Complicating the cost question still further is the rapid and not always predictable change in technology prices and performance.

None of this suggests that we should ignore issues of cost in looking at new investments in technology. But caution flags should go up whenever you hear someone say the nation can teach English composition more cheaply if it uses technology X, be that technology old or new.


Questions are also be useless if we fail to ask them. Many advocates of technology want to improve current teaching. But too often they fail to ask whether traditional education has been teaching the right content. They seek to change the means of education but don't ask hard questions first about its objectives. What makes me uneasy about the content goals of undergraduate education is grades, and what research tells us about them.

Any undergraduate can tell you that grades are the key to interpreting the mysteries of higher education. Faculty give you high grades when you learn what they value, right? We tell students repeatedly: study hard, get good grades and you will learn what you need in order to do better in life.

But is that true? Let's assume that the curriculum teaches knowledge, skills and wisdom that is of advantage to graduates. We'll also assume that faculty members are grading rationally. And although higher education has many goals, not all of them professional or vocational, at least some of them are meant to foster later success in the workplace (e.g., salaries, chances of winning a Nobel Prize, etc.) In that case, research ought to reveal a positive correlation between cumulative grade point average and work outcomes. In other words, your A graduates should have learned enough to do better in their work life than your C graduates. (I'll use graduate to denote anyone who has completed a course of study, whether or not the person receives a degree.) In contrast, if the curriculum were irrelevant to work outcomes (or if grading were random), then the correlation would be zero. It wouldn't matter how efficiently we taught the wrong stuff, or whether we used technology to teach it three times as well. The correlation between GPA and life outcomes would still be zero.

In 1991 Pascarella and Terenzini synthesized all the research they could find bearing on higher learning. Going to college and graduating pays off in many ways, they found. Choice of major makes a difference in life outcomes. All that is good news. But while Pascarella and Terenzini discovered many studies finding a tiny positive correlation between grades and work achievement after graduation, the correlation is so small (about 1-2% of the total variation) as to be meaningless for the individual student.

Why do grades not predict how well our graduates perform? Is it because we are not even trying to teach them certain knowledge, skills and wisdom that they need? Or does the problem lie in the way that faculty assess learning? Are Students Being Taught the Right Stuff?

One possibility is that the curriculum is failing to focus on the knowledge, skills and wisdom that graduates need. For example, some studies of GPA and work outcomes focus just on MBA graduates and their success in their first jobs (e.g., starting salaries, likelihood of promotion, etc.). Findings about MBA graduates by Crooks and by Livingston are consistent with Pascarella and Terenzini's: little relationship between GPAs for business school grads and their work achievement. Perhaps the reason for the tiny relationship is that there are important skills that the curriculum fails to teach or reward. That's the implicit message of The Competent Manager by Richard Boyatzis, a classic work published in 1982. The volume summarizes many empirical studies of the cognitive skills of effective managers. Each study compared the patterns of thinking of superlative managers to those of average managers.

Boyatzis found that the cognitive skills of highly successful managers didn't seem to bear much relationship to what business schools were teaching. For example, one of the key skills is the ability to shape and achieve goals by working through coalitions of peers. The habits of thought and action needed to be a good coalition builder need to be developed over many courses and extracurricular activities. Do today's business schools do that, so much so that their highest GPAs are usually earned by students who are best at organizing teams?

Boyatzis' findings have broader significance. Skills of working with people and in organizations are important for just about every graduate, not just business school types. Most forms of work, citizenship and even family life require such skills, knowledge and wisdom.

If you study your own graduates and find that there is no apparent difference in the fate of those who got A's and those who got C's. Perhaps it is because your program is not teaching the right stuff.

Or Is Grading the Problem?

A second way to account for Pascarella and Terenzini's finding is to infer that grading is irrational. Let's assume that most faculty members have no idea what their students think or have learned. By this argument, the students who learn the most may be as likely to get a C as an A. One of the most devastating studies in support of that notion is embodied in a video. "A Private Universe" opens in Harvard Yard during Commencement in the late 1980s. Twenty-two graduating seniors, faculty and alumni were asked one of two questions, "Why is it warmer in the summer than in the winter?" or "Why does the moon seem to have a different shape each night?" Only two of them answered their question correctly. Yet they should have learned about both these phenomena repeatedly while still in school.

The scene then shifts to a good high school nearby. We see ninth graders answering those same two questions incorrectly in the same ways the Harvard seniors did. The ninth graders are interviewed before they're taught the material that year, and then again right afterward. The instruction looks good. But the teacher does not seem to be learning anything about what students believe about these phenomena, despite the fact that she repeatedly asks them canned questions and gets canned answers back. The videotaped interviews show that the students' preexisting theories remained invisible to the teacher, and often untouched by instruction.

"A Private Universe" is not the only study that shows that students can get A's without truly understanding the material or being able to apply it. When faculty don't understand what students believe, know and can do, they are unlikely to teach or to grade appropriately.

So we have two pieces of bad news. We're probably failing to teach the right stuff but even if we were trying to teach the right stuff, many instructors wouldn't notice whether their students were learning it or not.

I'm not suggesting that we rush out and faddishly transform our curricula. But I do believe that most institutions of higher education are facing a Triple Challenge of outcomes, accessibility, and costs. If not now then in the next few years they will find it increasingly difficult to offer a modern, effective academic program that reaches and retains the students they should be serving for a price that those students and their benefactors can afford. For many institutions, these three issues of outcomes, accessibility, and costs pose real threats to their reputation and well-being. I see no evidence that most institutions will be able to meet this Triple Challenge without substantial use of computers, video and telecommunication. (In fact this Triple Challenge is one reason why technology has been rising to the top of budgets and presidential agendas for the last few years. One can no longer afford to ignore technology and still maintain institutional health.) However, if we rush out and buy new technologies without first asking hard questions about appropriate educational goals, the results are likely to be disappointing and wasteful.



Several decades ago, as educators began to think seriously about using the new technology of the day for teaching, you'd hear things like television will ruin learning and computers will revolutionize instruction. (Twenty-five hundred years earlier in Greece you'd have heard the same debate about the written word and its impact on dialogue-based education.) In other words they were asking whether a technology could teach without specifying anything about the teaching methods involved.

Richard Clark responded to that type of assertion by arguing, in effect, that the medium is not the message. Communications media and other technologies are so flexible that they do not dictate methods of teaching and learning. All the benefits attributed by previous research to "computers" or "video," Clark asserted, could be explained by the teaching methods they supported. Research, Clark said, should focus on specific teaching- learning methods, not on questions of media. Clark's studies provoked a blaze of responses because he seemed to be saying that technology was irrelevant. A good set of these attacks, with rejoinders by Clark, can be found in two recent issues of Educational Technology Research and Development, cited in the reading list at the close of this essay. Robert Kozma argues, for example, that any particular technology is not irrelevant. Any particular technology may be well or poorly suited to support a specific teaching-learning method. There may indeed be a choice of technologies for carrying out a particular teaching task, he argues, but it isn't necessarily a large choice. There are several tools that can be used to turn a screw, but most tools can't do it, and some that can are better for the job than others. Kozma suggests that we do research on which technologies are best for supporting the best methods of teaching and learning.

I agree with both of them. Clark's message is the more important, however. Too many observers assume that if they know what the hardware is (computers, seminar rooms), they know whether student learning will occur. They assume that if faculty get this hardware, they easily, automatically, and quickly change their teaching tactics and course materials to take advantage of it. Thus technology budgets usually include almost no money for helping faculty and staff upgrade the instructional programs.

As for useful research, we have both the Clark and the Kozma agendas before us:

  1. to study which teaching learning strategies are best (especially those that would not even be feasible without the newer technologies) and
  2. to study which technologies are best for supporting those strategies.



At this point it may seem like all the research and evaluation are useless. It's time to turn to some questions that have yielded important information. Since the 1960s the popular image of the computer revolution has rested on individualized computer-assisted instruction. This type of software teaches by offering some text or multimedia instruction, asking the student questions, and providing feedback and new instructional material based on the student's answers. Each student moves through the materials in a different way, and at a different rate. James Kulik and his colleagues at the University of Michigan have summarized the vast research about such software. They reanalyzed data from large numbers of small studies in order to draw more general conclusions. Their basic finding: this method results in a substantial improvement in learning outcomes and speed, perhaps around 20% or more on average. Such instruction works best, of course, in content areas where the computer can tell the difference between a student's right answer and wrong answer, e.g., in mathematics or grammar exercises. Few other teaching methods have demonstrated such consistently strong results as this type of self-paced instruction.

The news is not all good, however.

Studies such as those analyzed by Kulik and his colleagues have focused purely on the educational value of software, not on factors influencing its viability. Unfortunately, even the best computer assisted instruction of this type has often not found a substantial number of users in higher education. Software intended for educational use often fades away, its revolutionary promise unfulfilled.

A group of us led by Paul Morris created a casebook that analyzed twenty pieces of software developed in the 1980s and early 1990s. These software packages had already demonstrated not only value (educational power, as evidenced by evaluations and awards) but also viability (extensive use over many years). If software is not widely used by many faculty over many years, it is unlikely to foster lasting, national improvement in the way one or more courses are taught. We wanted to understand why a few software packages had proven viable, while so many others were not.

Perhaps our most important finding was that it usually takes years for curricular software to be developed and then to become widely accepted. There are many reasons for this. Support services are often under-funded, so faculty couldn't be certain that the basic hardware and software would be consistently available and in working order. Changing a course involves shifts to unfamiliar materials, creation of new types of assignments, and inventing new ways to assess student learning. It's almost impossible for an isolated faculty member to find the time and resources to do all these things, and to take all these risks. Few institutions provide the resources and rewards for faculty to take such risks. For these and other reasons, the pace of curricular change is slow.

The more revolutionary the software, the longer and more arduous was the task of getting a critical mass of users. For large pieces of curricular software, the journey from conception to wide use might take ten years or more.

Unfortunately, long before most curricular software found such wide use, computer operating systems and interfaces had changed. Instead of looking revolutionary, the software began looking obsolete. Use, instead of growing, began to decline. The lack of obvious returns discouraged funders and publishers from investing in the creation of version 2.0. The original developers had often lost interest, too. Faculty knew that making uninteresting upgrades would win them few rewards. Thus many valuable curricular software packages died without ever fulfilling their promise.

We did find a few small families of curricular software that found a niche. However many of these packages gained use because they were inexpensive to develop (and thus inexpensive to update regularly) and familiar. They got into use by comfortable, not by making instructional waves. Hardly the stuff of revolution.

That doesn't mean that software isn't used for learning. Ironically, while software designed for learning has had a hard time finding a postsecondary market, most software used for learning was not designed for that purpose.



Worldware is the name we gave such software. Worldware is developed for purposes other than instruction but is also used for teaching and learning. Word processors are worldware. So are computer-aided design packages. So are electronic mail and the Internet.

Worldware packages are educationally valuable because they enable several important facets of instructional improvement. For example online libraries and molecular modeling software can support experiential learning. Electronic mail, conferencing systems and voice mail can support collaborative learning by non-residential students.

Worldware packages are viable for many reasons. They are in instructional demand because students know they need to learn to use them and to think with them. Faculty already are familiar with them from their own work. Vendors have a large enough market to earn the money for continual upgrades and relatively good product support. New versions of worldware are usually compatible with old files. Thus faculty can gradually update and transform their courses, year after year, without last year's assignment becoming obsolete.

For reasons like these, worldware has often proven to have great educational potential (value) and wide use for a long period of time (viability). Has that educational potential been realized in improved learning outcomes? There is no substitute for each faculty member asking that question about his or her own students. Here are two such studies.

Karen Smith pioneered what is now an increasingly common application of electronic mail--as an important element in teaching foreign languages. Students of Spanish at the University of Arizona were told to write to one another using a form of electronic mail called computer conferencing. The faculty suggested some topics, e.g., the film the class had just seen, reviews for upcoming quizzes. Other topics came from the learners, e.g., an upcoming party and one student's existential angst. Some of these e-mail conversations were private. Conversation in the public conferences was graded but only for fluency of expression, not for content or grammar.

I met the first cohort of students taking this course. I've never seen a group, before or since, so excited about their course's use of technology. In part they were pleased because computer conferencing was more accessible than a language lab; they could participate from any computer at any time. More important, as several put it, I'm using Spanish for the first time. And they didn't need to feel self- conscious about speaking quickly or with a good accent. All they needed to do was take the time to interpret what had been said (i.e., written) to them and then decide how to express their replies.

Surprisingly, Smith's study showed that, relative to a class taught using a traditional language laboratory, the oral performance of these students excelled. In the slower paced, more anonymous world of the computer conference, they were speaking Spanish with a purpose, and learning to express themselves. The evaluation proved that worldware had been used in a way that opened a new dimension of learning for these students.

Another of my favorite evaluations of teaching tactics was never published. The faculty member was simply interested in seeing whether his use of technology was improving his student's learning. Bob Gross, a professor of Biology at Dartmouth College, was an early user of personal computers to create animations. In the late 1980s, he became impatient about a bottleneck in his teaching. It was taking him two class hours to teach about a complex series of interactions in biochemistry--48 blackboards worth as he put it. He would draw the molecules, talk, erase some, draw some, and talk some more. Gross wanted to speed up the process and make it more effective. In several weeks of work with an undergraduate student, he used worldware to create an animation that enabled him to teach the same material in half an hour. The students could also study the computer-based animation outside class, frame by frame if need be. I was initially disappointed, he told me the day I visited him at Dartmouth, some months afterward. There was very little excitement or discussion when I showed it in class. But later, when I gave them my regular exam on the subject, they did better than any previous class. These two studies show that each faculty member can do his or her own research, asking the kinds of questions about what students are learning. That's what Schneps and others have shown is so important: know thy own students and what they are learning. Without asking hard questions about learning, technology remains an unguided missile.



Studies by individual faculty of their own students and their own teaching methods and resources are necessary. But such studies are not enough. I suggest the following hypothesis:

Education can affect the lives of its graduates when they have mastered large, coherent bodies of knowledge, skill and wisdom. Such coherent patterns of learning usually must accumulate over a series of courses and extracurricular experience. Thus, to make visible improvements in learning outcomes using technology, use that technology to enable large scale changes in the methods and resources of learning. That usually requires hardware and software that faculty and students use repeatedly, with increasing sophistication and power. Single pieces of software, used for only a few hours, are unlikely to have much affect on graduates' lives or the cost-effectiveness of education (unless that single piece of software is somehow used to foster a much larger pattern of improved teaching).

Thus far few educators, evaluators and researchers have paid much attention to educational strategies for using technologies. Too often they've been victims of "rapture of the technologies." Mesmerized, they focus on individual pieces of software and hardware, individual assignments and, occasionally, to individual courses. [Enrolling more adult learners has been a more powerful motive to change strategies, and to study those strategies. For a fine strategic evaluation of seven institutional projects to transform whole degree programs, I suggest Markwood and Johnstone's study, New Pathways to a Degree: Technology Opens the College.]

Few educators are thinking much about educational strategies for using technology to improve learning outcomes. Does that mean we're not employing such strategies yet? Quite the contrary. Here's an example.

Back in 1987 Raymond J. Lewis and I were looking for faculty members who had at least two years of teaching in an environment where students had unfettered access to personal computing.

One place we visited was Reed College in Portland, Oregon, where the current seniors had four years of easy access to Macintosh computers. I talked to faculty members from eight departments, asking what they liked about teaching in this environment.

Surprisingly, there was one thing that all of them had noticed. As two of them put it, I'm no longer embarrassed to ask the student to do it over again. Because computer- based documents and projects are mechanically easier to revise, their students pressed to get a second chance to improve their work and their grade. Gradually the texture of the curriculum in each course was changing: toward projects developed in stages--plan, draft, conversation, another draft, final version. Each stage of work was marked by rethinking, and by learning. We called this strategy Doing It Again, Thoughtfully (DIATing).

I also talked asked a couple of seniors if they thought their education had been influenced by their use of computers. One of them replied that he'd learned that it's not one's first draft or thought that matters, but the final version. In what course had he learned that, I asked. He replied that it had been over a series of courses. Similarly, several faculty members and the director of the writing program independently suggested that the most tangible impact of computer availability would be at the capstone of the curriculum, in the intellectual tightness and coherence of bachelor's theses.

The day at Reed had a surprise ending. When Ray and I sat down with several of the College's educational and technology leaders, they were astonished by what we'd heard that day. The growth of DIATing had been an ecological change, not directed centrally. They hadn't known that their technology was being used in that way or with those kinds of outcomes. That's because their institutional strategy was the sum of large numbers of independent actions by many faculty members and students across the college.

From this story (and my other experiences with educational uses of information technology). I'd suggest three lessons:


1) Technology can enable important changes in curriculum, even when it has no curricular content itself. Worldware can be used, for example, to provoke active learning through work on complex projects, rethinking of assumptions, and discussion.

2) What matters most are educational strategies for using technology, strategies that can influence the student's total course of study.

3) If such strategies emerge from independent choices made by faculty members and students, the cumulative effect can be significant and yet still remain invisible. (Unfortunately, the converse can also be true. We may be convinced that we have implemented a new strategy of teaching across the curriculum, and yet be kidding ourselves.) As usual, there is no substitute for opening our eyes and looking.



Ordinarily what matters most is:
  • not the technology per se but how it is used,
  • not so much what happens in the moments when the student is using the technology, but more how those uses promote larger improvements in the fabric of the student's education, and
  • not so much what we can discover about the average truth for education at all institutions but more what we can learn about our own degree programs and our own students.

How can departments and institutions study their educational strategies for using technologies? A faculty can't do this alone by looking at just one course. As we saw in the DIATing example from Reed, a strategy is a pattern of teaching and learning that extends over many courses. Only a college, university or department has the range of responsibility and resources to study strategy.

The Annenberg/CPB Project is taking some steps to make it easier for educators to obey the commandment--know thy students and what they are learning. January 1995 saw the birth of the Flashlight Program. It's an effort to develop and share evaluation procedures. Colleges and universities will be able to use these procedures to assess their educational strategies for using technology. The founding organizations included Annenberg/CPB, the Western Interstate Commission on Higher Education (WICHE), Indiana University Purdue University at Indianapolis (IUPUI). IUPUI, the University of Maine at Augusta, the Maricopa Community Colleges, the Rochester Institute of Technology, and Washington State University. (In 1996, Flashlight was moved to the American Association for Higher Education and in 1998, it became part of the new non-profit Teaching, Learning, and Technology Group.)

In a previous planning phase, supported by the Fund for the Improvement of Postsecondary Education (FIPSE), Flashlight identified the educational strategies that participating institutions most needed to study. Developing good evaluation procedures is expensive. We wanted our procedures to be widely used and important, so we focused them on educational strategies for using technology that are widely used and important.

As its name indicates, Flashlight's evaluative procedures will not answer all questions that an institution might have. Nor will it be easy or inexpensive to ask these evaluative questions. We do hope that the answers will prove unusually useful for transforming teaching and setting policy.



1982 - Boyatzis, Richard, The Competent Manager, NY: Wiley.

1980 - Bowen, Howard R., The Costs of Higher Education: How Much Do Colleges and Universities Spend per Student and How Much Should They Spend? San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.

1974 - Cohen, Michael D. and James G. March, Leadership and Ambiguity: The American College President, New York: McGraw-Hill.

1977 - Crooks, Lois, Personal Factors Related to the Careers of MBAs, in Findings, IV:1, Princeton NJ: Educational Testing Service.

1994 - Educational Technology Research and Development, XLII:2, 3, Washington, DC: Association for Educational Communications and Technology.

1991 - Kulik, Chen-Lin C. and James A. Kulik, Effectiveness of Computer-Based Instruction: An Updated Analysis, Computers in Human Behavior, VII:1- 2, pp. 75- 94.

1971 - Livingston, J. Sterling, The Myth of the Well- Educated Manager, Harvard Business Review, n. 71108, January.

1994 - Markwood, Richard A. and Sally M. Johnstone (eds.), New Pathways to a Degree: Technology Opens the College and New Pathways to a Degree: Seven Technology Stories, Boulder, Colorado: Western Interstate Commission for Higher Education.

1994 - Morris, Paul, Stephen C. Ehrmann, Randi Goldsmith, Kevin Howat, and Vijay Kumar, Valuable, Viable Software in Education: Cases and Analysis, New York: Primis Division of McGraw-Hill.

1991 - Pascarella, Ernest T. and Patrick T. Terenzini, How College Affects Students. Findings and Insights from Twenty Years of Research, San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.

1987 - Schneps, Matthew H. (Producer, Director), "A Private Universe," [Film], Washington, DC: The Annenberg/CPB Project.

1990 - Smith, Karen L., "Collaborative and Interactive Writing for Increasing Communication Skills," Hispania, LXXIII:1, pp. 77-87.

Return to Top of this Chapter

Return to Evaluation Handbook Table of Contents

Note: This essay was also adapted as a chapter of the same name, written by the author, for the second edition of the Technology Costing Methodology Handbook, published by the Western Cooperative for Educational Technology (forthcoming).  


PO Box 5643
Takoma Park, Maryland 20913
: 301.270.8312/Fax: 301.270.8110  

To talk about our work
or our organization
contact:  Sally Gilbert

Search TLT

Contact us | Partners | TLTRs | FridayLive! | Consulting | 7 Principles | LTAs | TLT-SWG | Archives | Site Map |