Why can’t students recognise transferable skills?

If academics want students to see value in course-based activities, we need to make clearer to them exactly what broader skills they will learn by completing them, says Tanya Martini

June 27, 2019
Man diving
Source: Getty

In 2012, Georgetown University professor Randy Bass published an article in Educause Review that really frustrated me. In the article, “Disrupting ourselves: the problem of learning in higher education”, he claimed that students found little value in the assignments that they complete for college and university courses. “In my experience of holding focus groups and informal conversations with students, if you ask them where they think their deepest learning has taken place, they will sometimes point to one or two courses that had meaningful impact for them,” Bass wrote. “But they almost always point enthusiastically to the co-curricular experiences in which they invested their time and energy.”

My frustration didn’t stem from the thought that Bass’ idea was ridiculous and patently wrong. Instead, I was bothered by the small part of me that wondered if he might be right.

For starters, there was the anecdotal evidence that occasionally cropped up in my course evaluations. Students would tell me that my assignments were pointless, even when I had spent a lot of time trying to ensure that they weren’t. Case in point: I asked graduating students in my Transition to Work course to select a career path that interested them and for which a BA in psychology provided a solid foundation. I gave the class a research assignment and a template for writing up their findings. Among other things, they needed to look up the salary and projected demand for the job, as well as any further educational requirements. Once they had written it up, they uploaded their work to the university’s wiki server and I connected the link to our department’s website for other psychology majors to view.

I thought it was a good assignment. In addition to giving students a sense of the questions they should ask about a potential career (and where they could find reliable data to answer those questions), I thought it might help to foster some good career-related skills. Communication skills? Check. Technical skills? Check. Research and information literacy skills? Check and check. As an added bonus, the assignment was non-disposable and would be useful to the broader community of psychology majors in my department. On the course evaluations, though, two people told me that it was dumb. Fortunately, one was kind enough to explain why: the student had “no interest in editing webpages for a living”. Score one for Randy Bass.

I decided to test Bass’ claim further by looking at some data. The Transition to Work class also completes an e-portfolio assignment each year, and the first step in the process is to have students outline eight significant learning experiences they had while completing their degree. I don’t restrict where those experiences come from, so students do sometimes mention extracurricular activities as well as volunteering and paid work. Of the 534 experiences provided by the class as a whole, only 25 per cent were connected to assignments completed for coursework. A similar pattern was found at my university when we sampled broadly across graduating students from all disciplines. Another point for Bass.

By now, I was curious, so I had majors in my department evaluate two assignments that might reasonably be given in a psychology programme. One was a conventional 10-page essay; the other was a group-based assignment that involved editing a Wikipedia page related to a psychological concept, theory or process. The students wrote down, in their own words, what they thought the instructor’s goals were in giving the assignment to their class. They then provided both a “relevance rating” (how relevant they perceived the assignment to be in terms of their future career) and a written rationale for that rating.

The results of this small study were interesting: overwhelmingly, students felt that the instructor’s goal in asking students to do the assignments was to further their understanding of the assignments’ subject matter. Very few of them mentioned that the instructor might be trying to help them foster transferable skills, and this was particularly true for the essay. The relevance ratings came in right around the middle of the scale (4 out of 7), but the justifications for those ratings were helpful in providing some context. For the most part, relevance ratings were based on the content of the assignment (whether the subject matter would prove useful to them in their career), and on the features of the assignment (whether they imagined they’d have to do something similar to an essay or a wiki in their career).

I was troubled about the fact that students didn’t seem to spontaneously see the potential for course-based assignments to further their transferable skills. After all, assignments are often set up with skill development as an important objective, and those skills that are applicable to a wide range of careers, such as communication, collaboration and critical thinking, are typically prominent in instructors’ minds.

Moreover, it seemed to me that this was key to addressing Bass’ assertion that students didn’t fully appreciate the value of course assignments. If students understood that they could build important skills through these assignments, then it seemed to me they’d be more likely to understand their utility. Initially, I thought the answer was to simply be more explicit about skills in the assignment itself. I was wrong: further study suggested that making skills clear to students in the assignment instructions didn’t really move the needle on their perceptions of an assignment’s relevance to their future career.

It was a student comment that helped me to see why that might be true. In a candid conversation about a paper that she wrote for my introductory psychology class, a fourth-year history major explained to me why she had found writing an empirical manuscript to be pointless. (To be fair, she was much more diplomatic in her choice of words.) She started by focusing on the content of the paper, which didn’t seem terribly relevant to a history major who intended to go to grad school. When I pointed out that the assignment also provided practice with written communication, she was unmoved. To paraphrase her comments, the paper I had assigned might be relevant to the way psychologists communicate, but it in no way represented how historians “do” written communication.

Deep sea

It was those comments that really helped to crystallise my thinking about why Randy Bass might have been correct. I’m now starting to believe that it’s not enough to tell students about the transferable skills that assignments help develop, because many students need our help to recognise how skills transfer in the first place. To understand why some scaffolding might be necessary, let me take you on a very brief tour of some relevant research.

Psychologists have known for years that transfer of knowledge is hard work. In a classic experiment published in 1980 in Cognitive Psychology, University of Michigan researchers Mary Gick and Keith Holyoak provided participants with a scenario in which a doctor had a patient with a tumour. Radiation would kill the tumour, but the intensity of the ray that would be needed would also kill a substantial amount of the surrounding healthy tissue. What should be done?

The paper, titled “Analogical problem solving”, reported that many participants struggled to see one potential solution: irradiate the tumour from multiple directions using weaker rays that would spare the healthy tissue but whose power would aggregate when they converged on the tumour. The experimenters provided this solution to those participants who were unable to generate it themselves, and then gave everyone another problem. The second story was about a general who wanted to attack a nearby fortress. Explosives had been laid along all of the roads leading into the fortress. Consequently, no army could travel towards the fortress on any single road because the combined weight of the soldiers and equipment would detonate the explosives.

What’s interesting about the second problem is that it’s conceptually analogous to the first. In spite of this, very few people were able to spontaneously generate an answer to the fortress problem, even though they had heard the answer to the tumour problem only a few minutes earlier. Once the analogy was pointed out, however, people could easily come up with a solution to the story about the fortress.

In his 2010 book Why Don’t Students Like School? cognitive psychologist Daniel Willingham provides a concise summary of why transfer of knowledge can be so difficult. Problems, he argues, have two components. The first is surface structure and relates to the problem’s superficial features. The second is deep structure, which refers to the problem’s fundamentals. In Gick and Holyoak’s study, the surface structure of the two problems would be tumours and fortresses. The common deep structure has to do with dividing up a positive force into smaller units that converge on a central location where their efforts can be combined.

The reason that transfer is hard rests on the idea that while surface structure is easy to see, deep structure, typically, is not. Our attention is often captured by the superficial aspects of a problem while its underlying fundamentals – which are critical to transfer – are elusive, especially for non-experts.

So how are surface and deep structures relevant to students’ perceptions of course assignments? Two observations are important. First, my students’ evaluation of the essay and Wikipedia assignments suggested that they were focused on their surface structure – the subject matter and obvious features. They weren’t as likely to see the less obvious deep structure common across many college assignments: broadly applicable skills that can be transferred to a career of their choice.

The second observation, though, is more important. I mentioned that even if we explicitly point out the skills an assignment is intended to foster, it still might not be enough to change students’ perceptions of its relevance to their career path. I now think that this is because students don’t just focus on the surface structure of the assignment, they also focus on the surface structure of the skills themselves.

The history major in introductory psychology looked at my assignment and saw writing that required her to develop the introduction, method, results and discussion sections for an empirical paper. It’s written communication, sure, but its surface structure suggested to her that it’s a niche variety of written communication that’s used by psychologists but would never be relevant to someone who wants to do an MA in history.

What, then, is the deep structure of the transferable skills that we want students to practise in our courses? I’m sure that people could debate the subtleties, but it seems to me that if we take written (and oral) communication as an example, the deep structure would involve things like:

  • Deciding what information should be presented: this includes figuring out what information is critical and what is more tangential, as well as considering what the audience already knows and what might need to be carefully explained
  • Deciding on an appropriate order in which to present the information to ensure comprehension
  • Considering how to promote the audience’s receptiveness to the message: this might include establishing the credibility of the information being presented, thinking about the tone of the writing, and considering how audience characteristics might shape their interpretation of the message
  • Ensuring clarity through proper spelling, grammar and appropriate word choice.

If you think about it, these fundamentals underlie many kinds of communication in all types of fields. They’re relevant to a marketing manager trying to design a social media campaign for a new product, but they would also apply to a cop who was testifying to a jury about an arrest that she made. They’d matter in an email that detailed the outcome of a three-hour meeting, as well as to a school psychologist telling parents about their son’s results on a test to detect learning disabilities.

That very same deep structure of communication is important when I ask my first-year psychology class to write a short empirical paper and when I have my third-year students do a Ted-Ed talk. And I’m sure those same fundamentals apply when other instructors have students lead seminar discussions or write short stories or chemistry lab reports. What’s more, learning research suggests that developing expertise in a particular skill is more likely if you practise it in a variety of contexts. Becoming a good writer, then, is more likely when you write history and psychology papers, rather than just history papers alone.

If we want students to see value in our course-based activities, we need to help them move beyond the surface features of assignments and see transferable skills. More importantly, though, we need to acknowledge that doing the “transfer” that’s implied in transferable skills is likely to be hard for them, and that they may need our help to see the deep structure of key skills like communication, critical thinking and collaboration.

Is it worth the time and effort? I’m convinced that the answer is yes, and it was Randy Bass who has helped me to understand why. In his Educause Review essay, Bass speaks of the need to design learning experiences with a “post-course consciousness” that will help students see boundaries between course assignments and other life experiences as fluid rather than firm. Fostering an appreciation of deep structure and transfer is one way that we can press students to see how the skills being developed in our assignments can be useful in other areas of their lives – including a career that may, on the surface, seem completely unrelated.

Tanya Martini is a professor in the faculty of social sciences at Brock University, Ontario, Canada.


Print headline: Making transferable skills transparent

Please login or register to read this article.

Register to continue

Get a month's unlimited access to THE content online. Just register and complete your career summary.

Registration is free and only takes a moment. Once registered you can read a total of 3 articles each month, plus:

  • Sign up for the editor's highlights
  • Receive World University Rankings news first
  • Get job alerts, shortlist jobs and save job searches
  • Participate in reader discussions and post comments

Related articles

Reader's comments (6)

In the UK Higher Education sector there are many academics who have made staggering advances in their careers by pretending to understand what a Skill is, and by duping others in to believing that what they say and what they write about skills is of some importance. The stimulus to talk and write about skills in the UK has come from the UK Government's insistence that the value of a University Education can only be measured by employability. Weak and easily influenced Vice Chancellors (we have many) panic when any UK Government utters any nuance because they fear it will be linked to finance. Employers jump on the bandwagon and complain that graduates are not 'work ready' and lack 'essential skills'. Both the Government and the Employers are incapable of speaking with one voice on the meaning of 'transferrable skills' because they have yet to offer any embraceable definition of what one is. New spokespeople often introduce inter temporal confusion as positions vary over time. Students can see through this nonsense. For what it's worth, and to your credit, you come close to having a comprehension of what a skill is by including the sentence 'developing expertise in a particular skill is more likely if you practise it in a variety of contexts'. It's the word 'PRACTISE' that demonstrates your comprehension. I was once told; 'if you can't practise it, it ain't a skill'. Such an approach to skill development is best left in the hands of those who know what they want from young recruits; those that have to train them. But I stress that these people are not the spokespeople of employers, they are those on the ground who have daily contact with young recruits and who watch them develop. Senior personnel have absolutely no idea of how this process works ... even if they insist that they do.
Hi Descartes - thanks for taking the time to comment on my essay. In spite of the fact that I do teach courses related to the transition to work, I agree that sometimes administrators become overly fixated on employability (and the skills that seem relevant in that regard). That happens here in Canada as well, and it's frustrating when it feels as though the degree is just becoming a vehicle for job training. In hindsight, I wish I had written a bit the essay with a broader focus because I actually think skills like communication (and critical thinking and collaboration) are important well beyond jobs - many of them are just as critical in personal relationships as they are in the workplace. Understanding the fundamentals of communication (the elements of its 'deep structure' that I outlined at the end of the essay) is every bit as important to a successful resolution when I'm disagreeing with my husband or trying to persuade my 17-year old son as they are when I write a research paper or prepare a lecture. But I still think that, without help, most of my students would struggle to see how an essay for a first-year course might be helping them to build skills that were so broadly applicable. The vast majority of them are just too caught up in the surface features of that essay, and once they've dismissed it as a task unlike anything they'll ever need to do again, it simply becomes a hoop they need to jump through and forget about when they move on to the next thing on their list.
The above commentator succinctly states one of the basic problems faced by UK educators in Higher Education. I would additionally argue that the insistence of limiting recognisable value of a university education to employability is incredibly reductive. Higher education at its best creates independent thinkers with the capacity to communicate to various audiences in ways that enrich their own lives and thereby enhancing society overall. Overly focussing on an agenda of employability has built an incredibly destructive cycle of students afraid to explore and imagine.
I agree wholeheartedly with the author of this essay. Moving students beyond surface skills to explore the structural skills that they are gaining is key. I would add that it is the role of both the instructor and the student to ensure this happens. As we move more to learner-centred pedagogy, students also assume responsibility for ensuring that they are making the connections between the structural skills and the way they transfer to other disciplines and indeed to responsible citizenry.
As I have no idea what 'surface skills' or 'structural skills' are, I can't engage with the above post. Perhaps somebody can enlighten me??
In his 2010 book Why Don’t Students Like School? cognitive psychologist Daniel Willingham provides a concise summary of why transfer of knowledge can be so difficult. Problems, he argues, have two components. The first is surface structure and relates to the problem’s superficial features. The second is deep structure, which refers to the problem’s fundamentals. In Gick and Holyoak’s study, the surface structure of the two problems would be tumours and fortresses. The common deep structure has to do with dividing up a positive force into smaller units that converge on a central location where their efforts can be combined. The reason that transfer is hard rests on the idea that while surface structure is easy to see, deep structure, typically, is not. Our attention is often captured by the superficial aspects of a problem while its underlying fundamentals – which are critical to transfer – are elusive, especially for non-experts.

Have your say

Log in or register to post comments

Most commented

Recent controversy over the future directions of both Stanford and Melbourne university presses have raised questions about the role of in-house publishing arms in a world of commercialisation, impact agendas, alternative facts – and ever-diminishing monograph sales. Anna McKie reports

3 October


Featured jobs

Occupational Health Manager

University Of The West Of Scotland

Senior Veterinary Epidemiologist

Scotland's Rural College (sruc)

Architecture Manager

University Of Leeds

Research Associate

Kings College London