A Drop in the Bucket

Mary arrives for her October advising appointment.  Transcript and catalog hang limply at her side.  We look over a grid of offered courses.  She chooses a schedule for her final spring semester.  I skim my copy of her record and commend her for coming so close to graduating cum laude.  "Almost made it, didn't you?" I smile

"Um... almost?  No, I am totally graduating with honors.  I'm getting an 'A' in Spanish and Senior Seminar."  Mary speaks with equal parts confidence and condescension.  She is wondering how a man gets to be a college professor with such a poor understanding of mathematics.  Of course a strong eighth semester will boost her average.

Syllabi: Form & Ownership

Purple Syllabi:  confessions of a mimeograph sniffer.

Jurassic Park (the first one) owned the box office.  I was teaching at a poverty row college.  Our staff retreats too frequently concluded with faculty appeals to gods and donors for the wherewithal to make payroll. 

There’s nothing sexy about a college operating budget.  Folks give to buildings and named scholarship funds, but you just can’t mount a commemorative plaque on a light bill.  So the president unveiled a plan whereby we might “cut our way to prosperity.”  In practical terms:  bring your own coffee to the break room, say goodbye to departmental secretaries, and – for goodness sake – make fewer copies.

Scheduling as Pedagogy

Students employ a production schedule they co-created with the professor.

Once you've designed the last thing, let your students watch you back up two weeks before that.  That's right.  Use the semester's first class period to create the calendar with them.  Post a finished calendar on Day Two.  Why?  Because the sweetest words a producer ever heard are "on time" and "under budget."  If you pass out stone tablets on Day One, pre-carved with your venerable recipe, you have thrown away an opportunity to teach production scheduling, an essential task of filmmaking (and, indeed, a valuable life skill). Instead, invite your apprentices to a conversation that will...

Living Backwards

At the end of each semester an audience of 300 gathers for the Media Showcase.

Having calibrated your level of expectation, what assessment evidence is appropriate?  As in earlier posts, I'm going to offer my syllabus calendar for Intro to Video Production as an example, annotating it here with my reasoning.

Students in my orbit have often heard me tell them to "live backwards."  It's a mantra meant to express an understanding that the afternoon plan for a picnic motivates a morning of sandwich-making.  Similarly, a film's premiere motivates a back-timing of tasks from editing to scriptwriting.  This seems self-evident.  Yet many, many students wait until the last week of the semester to ask:  "Is the final cumulative?" or "How high must I score to pass?"  These underachievers are (and I use the term pejoratively) "forward-thinking."

Syllabi: Production Schedules

Some people actually make money from production scheduling.  But first, reasonable goals.

An earlier post dealt with creating calendars for knowledge-based Media Studies courses, the pace and division of which are arbitrarily determined by the whim and interest of professors.  Media Production classes are importantly different.  Professors in these are apt to offer project-based skills training.  They are attempting to make of their students practiced, competent, or masterful editors and scriptwriters.  The adjectives are important and should mirror the Course Objectives section of the syllabus. 

Attendance Isn't Roll Call

Do they even give out these awards in the adult working world?

I don’t suppose you can ever guess what will turn someone’s crank.  Witness the explosion of interest in an essay about something as vanilla as attendance.  The questions swelling my inbox after this post boil down to two issues:  the burden of mandatory reporting and student athletes.

A few readers reminded me that retention isn’t the only reason they’re compelled to report attendance figures.  Some financial aid – especially that which benefits veterans – is contingent on (sometimes pro-rated according to) attendance.  I do not live in a universe free from governmental information gathering.  I’m sorry if I made it seem otherwise.  Yes, I report those statistics, too.  But I collect the data from quiz scores (meant to spar review and discussion) and from (what I hope are) pedagogically meaningful assignments and exercises.  I do not “call roll.”  Calling roll is an empty throwback to elementary school.  It constitutes a missed teaching opportunity.

Important Attendance

"Iron Man" Cal Ripken, Jr. was awarded the perfect attendance pin on 06 Sep 1995.

In 1980, A.K. Verma got a job with the Central Public Works Department as an assistant executive electrical engineer.  A decade later, he requested some of his accrued leave days.  He hasn’t yet returned to work.  In fact, he was finally fired Thursday.  Thursday, January 8, 2015.  The Indian civil servant remained on the payroll but hadn’t been to work for a quarter century. 

Verma’s sacking coincides with my recent meditations on course policies and syllabus construction.  Some colleagues have been reading along and asked why I haven’t really addressed the issue of attendance. 

Syllabus Calendars for Media Studies

Media Studies Calendars:  Knowledge-Based, Individual... and Arbitrary

Because a syllabus is shaped by the prevailing mode of instruction, it’s probably wise to divide “Studies” from “Production” in a discussion of calendar creation.

Media Studies courses tend to be knowledge-based.  That knowledge is demonstrated  largely by individual essays, individual tests, and individual speeches.  Despite the occasional group project, the grade of one student infrequently impacts the work of others.  If Mary turns in her paper a week late, it’s no skin off Ethan’s nose.

Syllabus Policies

Yes, it's available at amazon.com.  And, yes, you want one.

My experience with syllabi changed in grad school.  I think it had something to do with taking full financial responsibility for my education.  I also had a clearer vision of my intended career.  While a B.A. in Broadcasting & Cinema might simply have extended my adolescence, I enrolled in UNCG’s M.F.A. program aiming very specifically for a career demanding time both behind a camera and in front of students.  Thus I stockpiled syllabi from the grad courses I took (and those undergrad courses in which I served as teaching assistant) thinking them templates for the future.  

All too suddenly, graduation moved me from one side of the desk to its obverse.  After a summer of freelance filmmaking, I was an author of syllabi.  But I was an amateur.  I am still an amateur.  Most professors are.  With scant exception (students of Education seem an obvious special case), we are taught about our discipline, but not about the craft of teaching.  It is the dirty secret of our profession. 

Syllabus Memories

Jorge Cham at phdcomics.com

I never saw a syllabus in high school.  On the first day of any grading period, I had no idea where we’d be on the last.  Some of the better teachers wrote the day’s topic on the board.  But in general, our knowledge of any future beyond that was limited to the next assignment (printed in a corner of the board under the words “Do Not Erase”).  If the class were governed by policies unique to the teacher, they were conveyed by word of mouth.  These usually had to do with the proper use of unwieldy bathroom passes or returning scissors to a shoebox covered in contact paper.

Then came college and the syllabus – an unfamiliar Latin scripture in which each teacher declared himself god.  Office hours defined the time/space boundaries of his universe. A grading scale enumerated sins and their respective punishments.  A calendar prophesied the future.