The University: What I Tell You as a Teacher, and What I Don't

Dear Students:

Oftentimes, I think my students are frustrated with me. Perhaps you can feel the underpinnings of my course, but not knowing exactly what I am after, you find yourself frustrated and somewhat unsettled.

You see, I have learning objectives that I list in the syllabus, and then I have learning objectives that only reside in my head. I have grading rubrics that I share with you, and then I have grading rubrics (that grade me, and not them, actually) that I do not share with you. I pick readings because I find some of them to be spot on, and then I find others to be completely wrong. I pick some that are good, and then again pick some that are crap. I want to see what you think about them—I want to see if you pick up on this as well.

Either I’m an exceptionally nefarious individual who over thinks just about everything (this is entirely plausible) or I am NOT the only teacher that does this. I think it’s the latter.

In the classes that I teach on a regular basis (which are graduate seminars, and one is directly related to the thesis), I am often teaching writing. Not the grammar and syntax of writing, but the style, the components, the marrying of research question to theory, the justification of analysis, the ways in which we can still hook an audience in a scholarly piece of writing.

Except, these are not really the goals of the specific course content. The goal of the thesis seminar is to successfully craft your thesis proposal and learn about the thesis process. The goal of the theory course I teach is to introduce students to theories applicable to mass communication that reside in other disciplines. Exceptional writing is, however, the ultimate goal of any individual who is working to master the literature (hence, the term: master’s degree), and is fledging their scholarly writing wings.

You can do damn near anything if you can write well. I want you to be a better writer.

Picture by ninniane

So, in one class, I write about the research proposal in the syllabus, and give three more documents to assist you. I then lead three different discussions about the process. This may sound like a lot, but I do not tell you everything. I do not answer all of the questions you may have. I do not prescribe to you how I want theory introduced, or how to pick the best question. I want to see what you produce in the first draft (the research proposal you write is written in stages, after all). I want to know what I can teach you.

You may think the paper is about showing you are invested in the course content, understand what we are basically talking about, can do basic research in the field, and cite correctly. My goals for the paper is actually about reading between the lines of the literature, picking the question no one has asked yet, and taking a (small) risk with theory.

So you get this draft back, and you are astounded at the feedback you receive from me (my evals say I give the most paper feedback you have ever encountered). I often write in excess of twenty comments on a ten page paper, and then fill up the majority of another page with additional feedback. I know that sometimes you read that feedback and think to yourself, “But she didn’t tell me this!” You’re right, I didn’t. I wanted to talk to you about this; not TELL you.

You see, I want you to screw up in your papers.  I want to brainstorm with you about when to use “as cited in” and when to go directly to the source. I want to talk to you about how you describe the background of your theoretical underpinnings, and how you tell your readers why your question is the best damn question to be asked since the days of the Ancient Greeks. I want to have hard conversations—and ‘conversations’ is the key term here—instead of giving you a bland, one-size-fits-all to do list.

Because writing, in my classes, is this biggest thing I can teach you. From the beginning of the process, to the end-- encompassing everything from getting the right sources to who should be listed as first author and second—I want to guide you through the process of academic writing, and make you the best writer you can be.

I hope you remember this about me during finals week, when you are trying to finish up that research proposal. I hope you think about this when you wonder exactly what it is another instructor of yours is looking for in their class. It’s not always about what is listed in the syllabus. Sometimes what is not listed is more important than what is.