I was 25 years old when I began my undergraduate education. I had spent six years in the Navy as a nuclear components welder, where I fixed nuclear reactors. I had enlisted right after high school because I was not sure what wanted to do with my life and the service allowed me to gain a wealth of life experiences, many of which I could never begin to discuss in the Skiff. But after six years, I was ready to move on with my life. One adventure was over and another was to begin. When I enrolled in college, I was called a "nontraditional student." It was a title that I held dear. Since I was not traditional, I was able to define myself and my undergraduate education. I was a theater major on a BA tract who studied computer science, astrophysics, Greek language, political science and history. I also studied acting, directing, design, management and stage combat. I worked on stage and backstage; I built stages; I toured; I worked professionally; I played hard; I even got married. I was nontraditional to the core! My professors in the Theater Department called me "The Student Who Thought He Was A Faculty Member!" (Another title I hold dear!) What I had done in my undergraduate education was to push the bounds of my institution and demand the education I knew I deserved and that I wanted.
One of the things that shocks me in higher education is the preoccupation of students with grades over learning. Maybe society has conditioned us with a need to document our superiority. I sometimes wonder what grade Aristotle gave Alexander in cultural anthropology or military science. I am amazed at the number of students who are not concerned with learning but with, "What do I have to do to get an A?" or, "What party are you going to tonight?" or "Why do I have to go to class at all?" This is just a sampling of conversations that have gone on during a class, including one on a cell phone. I am also amazed at the number of students that come into a classroom with a closed mind, adamantly opposed to exploring a different perspective of life. So if this is my experience with traditional students then give me nontraditional students who are hungry to learn and are inquisitive, studious and challenging. Students who want an adventure, an experience, out of their education. Passionate students with an open and curious mind who go the extra mile, not to argue, but to inquire. This might sound like I am asking for trouble but what I have discovered from my own personal experience is that students like this also have discipline, maturity, respect and an ability to listen and think critically. At this point I might be hearing from colleagues asking when are they going to build such a student? Well, I have been blessed to have had a few. I wish I had hundreds. This I do know. The student who goes into the classroom with a passionate hunger to learn will get far more out of their education that they will ever spend on tuition. I challenge all students to become "nontraditional!" Embrace the adventure of life long learning and take charge of your own education!
George H. Brown is an associate professor of theatre. He can be reached at (g.brown@tcu.edu).
During my time at TCU I have seen many instances of flat-out disrespect for instructors. My introductory psychology class sticks out in my mind. About a third of the students were late each day. And I'm not talking by about one or two minutes. It was more like 15 to 20 minutes. Since this was a 50-minute class, I often wondered why they even bothered to show up. Heck, I often wondered why I even bothered to show up. The professor who taught this class was one of the many I've had at TCU who simply regurgitated the textbook word for word. All of the "visual aids" this particular instructor used were overhead transparencies of textbook pages. There was absolutely no reason to take notes in class. Most of us simply followed along in the book and highlighted items the teacher emphasized. Needless to say, the entire book was engraved in my memory because of the repetition. Apparently, the authors said everything that needed to be said on the subject, and the professor had no additional contributions whatsoever. There were no classroom discussions. There were no interesting anecdotes from the instructor's own experiences. I could have just read the book in the comfort of my own home and learned the same amount. But, alas, TCU requires you go to class and this teacher regularly took attendance. I was doomed to suffer through the painfully boring semester. But it was an easy "A," right? Why should I be complaining? Well, frankly, I felt shortchanged. Some TCU students are getting their education free courtesy of Mommy and Daddy. The rest of us are paying for our education on our own. If I'm going to spend more than $1,000 for a class I want it to be money well-spent. A recitation of a textbook is not my idea of a quality education. Allan Saxe, a columnist for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, recently wrote about the lack of common courtesy in the college classroom. Saxe said, "Perhaps it is easy to understand why the classroom breeds such disrespect. Students want to be entertained, inspired and educated at the same time." On the contrary, education will be sufficient, thank you. It's always an extra plus when you get a teacher who is really engaging, but it's certainly not a necessity. A boring teacher is not necessarily a bad teacher. And a particularly bad teacher should not be tolerated. Luckily, TCU students have a way to tell academic departments which instructors are performing well and which are performing poorly. The Student Perception of Teaching forms we all fill out at the end of each semester are taken seriously by the faculty and departments. It is the student's opportunity to give opinions regarding the performance of the instructor. But students don't seem to take them seriously. If I've suffered through a particularly bad semester with an inept instructor I feel it's my duty to sacrifice a few moments of my time to write an evaluation. I try hard not to be overly critical and to make suggestions for improvement. I don't do this for myself. I do it for my fellow students in the hope they'll get a better education and not have to suffer through the same thing. Often the people who bellyached the most about the class are the ones who quickly bubble in the "average" response for all of the rating questions and fail to jot down any other useful comments. This helps no one. Saxe concludes his column by saying, "If students would come to class on time, not leave early, and refrain from talking or eating in class, they might get better performance from their teachers." Let's look at that another way. If teachers who taught poorly took the time to put together a relevant and cohesive lecture, they might get more respect and better attendance from their students. And if students would take just a few moments to fairly evaluate their instructors we might eventually see the benefits.
Sarah Mullen is a senior advertising/ public relations major from Fort Worth. She can be reached at (sarah92978@aol.com).
To my professor: I just wanted to say that I am sorry for falling asleep in class this morning. I don't think you noticed, but still I felt bad. I tried really hard not to nod off, but I couldn't help it. No offense or anything, but a lecture was the last place where I wanted to be. The power of caffeine was no match for the power of the droned word. And I was up late last night. This may seem hard to understand, but I could not sleep. I realize that at the end of the day you get to go home to your own bed and your own house. I realize you have the luxury of determining when you go to sleep. That, for me, is a privilege long forgotten. I am nine hours from home, sleeping in a bed that is not my own under the same roof as 200 other students. I have no control over when I sleep or wake up, that power belongs to you and the guys next door. You determine how late I will be up studying; they determine how late I will feel bass pumping through my walls and floor. I also wanted to apologize for not being prepared for class today. Again, you probably didn't notice. I have had a hard time keeping up with the reading. I try to read, but you have a way of picking the most boring textbook in the store. I have a feeling that not even you have read it. So every time I sit down to read it, I feel like I am back in lecture, the words begin to swim together and before long I am dreaming about the class rather than reading about it.
Some of my classes, though, are like TCUtopia. I pay attention and take notes that don't trail off into illegible scrawls because I fell asleep mid-sentence. I even participate in the discussion. But then, those professors actually know my name. I guess it is a trade-off. I had this really funny thought the other day. I am paying to take your class. Some of that money eventually goes to you. So does that make me your boss? I think it does. So it is time we had a little talk, employer to employee. Step into my office. (Oh yes, I have one also. It's in Foster Hall. Please ignore the bed in the corner.) Think of it as a performance review, or maybe contract negotiations. I will give a little, you give a little and we will see if we can't come up with a quality education. Learn my name, and I will come to class. I realize you have a lot of students, and we all have our own pesky little names, but a name represents a person. Care enough about me to see me as an individual, and I promise to care enough about the class to get out of bed (trust me, that is a big commitment). Talk to me, rather than at me, and I will stay awake. It is impossible to nod off when involved in a conversation. Believe me, I have tried. The guilt alone was enough to keep me awake. Act like you care about the class, and so will I. I realize that it may not be your dream to teach an introductory course, but I am not thrilled about taking it. I am trying to make the best of it, however, so that I get my money's worth. Please earn it. Use the book, but don't lean on it, and I will read it. I don't know when you were last in the bookstore, but textbooks are expensive. Show me why I spent all that money, but if you are going to pull a lecture straight from its pages, either it or you are not necessary. Respect me, and I will respect you. Write me off, and I will do the same to your class. I guess I just need to be justified in taking your class. I have much more at stake here than you might realize. I am devoting money and time to you, working for you, and staking my grade and my future on you. If you recognize that, you might be surprised at the response of your students. We might begin to pay attention, to come to class, to stay awake. We might even learn something.
John-Mark Day is a freshman religion major from St. Joseph, Mo. He can be reached at (jmday2@delta.is.tcu.edu). |
And now here I am, a university
professor with years of experience having more students than I could ever
remember by name (yet many I will never forget), and I am asked to describe
an ideal student. I would have to answer in one word - nontraditional.
You know, I have noticed that
there is a difference in my classes. In some, usually only half of the
class ever shows up (I am always one of them, of course). The ones that
do show up doodle, talk to each other, eat and try to stay conscious. Needless
to say, they are not my favorite classes.| The TCU Daily Skiff © 1998, 1999 Credits |