Top 10 Words of Warning Advice I may or may not tell my students on the first day of class
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School starts for me next week, and believe it or not, I’m
strangely excited about it. I have always, always,
even when I was in middle school, loved the first day of school. What happens
after the first day may be another story, but there has always been something
magical about the first day for me.
That’s probably why I’m a teacher today. It's all about the first day.
So as I’ve been working on my syllabus for this semester,
working through new textbooks and thinking about my past classes, I thought of
some things my students might want to know ahead of time. These pieces of
advice come from 21 years of teaching experience. Boy, could I tell stories!
Oh, I guess I have.
Now, understand, I hope and pray that none of my students
EVER find my blog (ha!), but just in case you know a college student who would
benefit from these words of advice, feel free to share.
1. I am not your
mother. I do not want to know that you stayed up until 3:30 in the morning
and couldn’t get out of bed for class. I will not call you to make sure you get
up. I will not text you to see where you were. Just come to class. On time.
2. I like paper. Call me a murderer of
trees, but I like to read your paper on, well, paper. I like to scribble and
make squiggly lines on your paper. I like to write long notes at the end of
your work—I think this is one of the best ways you learn how to get better at
your craft. I don’t want you to send me your paper via email (although lots of
great professors do), and I certainly don’t want you to hand me a disk that
I’ll have to put in my own computer and which could possibly give my computer a
virus of some sort. Nope. Just gimme the paper.
3. Your phone is not
invited to class. If something is more important than my class, go handle
it outside of class. Take an absence if you want, but just don’t bring it into
my sanctuary.
4. And speaking of absences . . . yes, they do
exist in college. I may not look like I’m taking attendance in front of the
class, but I’m doing it in my mind. And, yes, your presence in our class
matters—to me and to your classmates.
5. Sniffing. I hate sniffing. Get a tissue.
6. I’m not blind—I
see stuff. I see your phone under the desk (put it away!). I see you doing
homework for another class (it’s pretty obvious when you should be taking notes
and when you don’t need to be writing anything). I see that smug look on your
face that says, “I could be teaching this class right now.” That’s the one I really
wish I could remove from the classroom.
7. I’m not as
self-assured as I might seem. When you give me that smug face, it actually
does hurt a little bit, even though I don’t want to give you the benefit of
thinking so. Remember that your professor is a human being and treat me as
such.
8. Which reminds
me to tell you that I have a life
outside of this classroom. Last night I probably ran my daughter to piano
lessons, made dinner, vacuumed the living room, worked on a writing project, cleaned
up dog puke, and graded papers until my head felt like it was going to explode.
My life gets to me sometimes just like school gets to you. Grace, please.
9. You are not God’s
gift to the English language. (And neither am I.) You are in my class
because you have at least one thing to learn, so figure out what that is,
practice it like crazy, and feel like you’ve accomplished something by the end
of the semester. A big head about your abilities will get you exactly . . .
nowhere.
10. I like you. I
have no preconceived ideas about you based on where you’re from, what positions
you take, or especially (goodness no!) how well you write. I come into the
semester thinking that we’re going to have fun in class and that I’m going to
learn something from you. I assume that you are a decent, interesting, likeable
human being. Try not to prove me wrong.
So here we go. The semester is here. It’s going to be crazy-busy,
a writing whirlwind—a typing typhoon if you will (ah, no). You’ll want to shoot
me at times, and you’ll probably want to cuss me out at other times. But
hopefully, in the end, you’ll see that I cared about you and wanted to help you
learn something.
Let’s get to work!
