In “Message to My Freshman Students,” Professor of Philosophy Keith Parsons explores the tribulations of teaching college freshmen. He describes the difference between high school teachers and professors as follows: “I am your professor, not your teacher.” He stresses that “teachers are evaluated on the basis of learning outcomes, generally as measured by standardized tests. If you don’t learn, then your teacher is blamed.” Then he says, “It is no part of my job to make you learn. At university, learning is your job—and yours alone. My job is to lead you to the fountain of knowledge. Whether you drink deeply or only gargle is entirely up to you.”
I teach college freshmen, too, and I used to teach in the public school system. While I agree with Parsons’ argument that public school teachers are unduly burdened with test-preparation instruction, I disagree that instructors aren’t teachers. Students come to the university, no matter what their area of study, to learn. Yes, the student should get the most out of instruction, but the instructor should teach students how to absorb the material in a way that will benefit them in the future.
I just had a conversation with my students about their learning outcomes. They sit in the front of the main textbook for my First Year Rhetoric and Writing class. Of course none of my students had read the objectives, even though they are also in the syllabus and I mentioned them on the first day of class. With a couple of weeks left in the semester, I reiterated the outcomes. I asked students if they thought they would reach them. Naturally, I hold myself responsible for students’ ability to actually do the things listed there. These standards include critical thinking, rhetorical analysis, persistent inquiry, and strong writing skills. Most students indicated a fairly high level of confidence that they would be able to meet the outcomes of the class when it ends. If so, I’ve done my job well.
Mr. Parsons says, “I am not held responsible for your failures. On the contrary, I get paid the same whether you get an ‘F’ or an ‘A.’” This sort of thinking doesn’t allow much room for the instructor’s personal growth. I care what grades my students get not only because I want them to be successful. I also want them to know that what I am teaching is working for them. They should leave my class with a skillset they can actually use.
I ask my students frequently if they want more or less of something, or if there’s anything I missed that they feel like they need. Likewise, I constantly re-evaluate my content and delivery so I can get better the next time. It sounds like once his freshman students leave for the semester, Mr. Parsons just shuts the door and begins preparing for the next semester, uncaring of whether his freshmen have learned real, applicable things in his class or whether he taught his material in a way that was accessible to them.
One of my freshmen told me last week how refreshing it was to know I cared about him. The thought, although alien to the student, reflects my style. Student engagement leads to information retention. I show concern for students by meeting with them, helping them with course material, unblocking their writer’s block, getting to know their learning styles, and learning who they are as people. I am not a mindless robot marking time until the semester is over, nor are my students. They deserve a serious education.
Mr. Parsons indicates that Higher Education reformers are invalidating lecture as a teaching tool. He says lecture has come “under attack” as an “ineffective strategy,” but that these ideas are “hogwash.” He thinks that instead of modifying teaching styles to include more problem-solving and less lecture, students just need to suck it up and “learn to listen.” He is right about that. Students need critical listening skills as much as they need critical reading and writing skills. But not so they can make it through a boring lecture. They will have to develop that strategy on their own.
I teach freshmen to value the complexity of arguments. They should actively engage with a text so that when they read, they avoid binary, right/wrong, is/isn’t thinking. This means valuing multiple perspectives and searching for new answers. I tell students that when they leave my class, they should view everything they encounter with a wider lens and avoid taking controversy at face value. They become more critical of other people’s viewpoints (in the analytical sense, not the judgmental sense). As a result, they know how to sustain enriching conversations and a wider worldview.
I found the article as a whole, although it does make some good observations about freshman behavior, rather condescending. According to Parsons, his freshmen should learn to listen to his lectures. He should not have to make the effort to engage them. “They are free to leave if they are not interested.” This, I think, is the crux of the problem. If university professors put the burden of education on the students, what can a professor do, lecture to an empty room?
Keith Parsons finishes his article by telling students, “You see university as a place where you get a credential. . . . Your professor still harbors the traditional view that universities are about education. If your aim is to get a credential, then for you courses will be an obstacle in your path. For your professor, a course is an opportunity for you to make your world richer and yourself stronger.” He’s right about that part, too. But professors need to meet the freshmen where they are. They should not expect their students to reach up to them on their high university pedestals. To ask for this does a disservice to students, to the university, and ultimately, to the professors themselves.
