As the beginning of fall term approaches, my commercial endeavors are coming to an end and my academic life is beginning anew. As my recent lack of updates suggests, I've been busy preparing to teach Composition 101, a course that nearly all college freshmen at the University of Cincinnati are required to take and most would rather avoid. The first time I taught the course last fall, my lack of experience collided with a particularly troublesome bunch of students, and the results were rather unpleasant.
While I can't control what students enroll in my class, I can learn from my mistakes. My biggest challenge is to revamp my syllabus, the document that outlines my course policies and the assignments my students will be required to complete. Depending on the instructor, a syllabus may be a brief bullet point-style list of what is due when or an eloquently crafted pedagogical manifesto that makes Marx's writing look like a comic strip. For me, the ideal lies somewhere between haiku and epic, a document that is concise enough for undergraduates to actually read but thorough enough that they will understand what to expect of me and what I expect of them. Achieving that lofty goal, however, means addressing the following issues:
1. Most freshman have no idea what a syllabus is or how to use it. The word itself seems to scare them; it might as well be a venereal disease.
2. When presented with a syllabus, most students don't read it.
3. Those who read it don't necessarily understand it.
4. Those who don't understand it usually don't ask for clarification. They often fail to realize just how much they don't understand.
5. The majority of the questions students do ask are answered on the syllabus.
6. Those who have read and understand the syllabus still might not follow it, hoping it won't be enforced.
How does one prevent a syllabus from becoming a useless gesture? For starters, I've learned to do the following:
1. Explain what a syllabus is by comparing it to something more familiar: a rulebook, an instruction manual, a contract between teacher and student, a preview of coming attractions.
2. Assign the syllabus as required reading (give this assignment in class so they don't have to read the syllabus to know they have to read it).
3. Make the students explain it. Assign each student a section of the document (even if just a sentence or two), which they will need to read then talk about in their own words. If they don't report on it accurately, clear up the confusion right away.
4. When it comes to specific assignments, ask students to write down one question they have or one thing they're confused or frustrated about. Students who are embarrassed to admit they don't understand something are more likely to do so anonymously.
5. Students who claim to have no questions aren't off the hook; they have to write a summary of the assignment to demonstrate their understanding or lack thereof.
6. If students consistently ask questions that the syllabus covers, make them look up the answers, even if they have to rifle through their backpacks like raccoons in a dumpster.
7. Don't make rules you aren't willing or able to enforce all of the time. Students need and deserve consistency.
8. Let the students have a say. Don't wait until final course evaluations. Periodically throughout the term, ask them to write down one thing they like about the course and would like to do more often, one thing they despise and never want to do again, and one thing they haven't done but would like to. Throw out the ridiculous suggestions and give serious thought to the reasonable ones. Don't be afraid to make policy changes that will make class run more smoothly.
