…is go through student reflective letters and use their insights to help future students. Like this one:

Syllabi are a PITA, but they are necessary. They act as a contract, spelling out in writing what the student must do and when, as well as details relating to behavior, attendance, scheduling, and so forth. (No explosives in class, guys! It’s in the syllabus!) Syllabi are also there to explain to students what the objectives of the course are: a combination of “here’s what you get out of it” and “here’s what we expect you to know by the end.” In my program–sophomore composition–this section is standard and, in theory at least, we’re to use it unedited. I wonder how many of my colleagues have read it and really thought about it recently. I haven’t.

But now, I’m being called on to examine others’ approach to goals or learning objectives in three syllabi for similar courses. The first of the three I found was fairly detailed, ill-organized and confusing, and listed all of the usual sections except for objectives or goals. Presumably the chief goal is to pass and move on with your life. The second syllabus…well, it includes everything except for a calendar of assignments, but has only a course description explaining what students will do in the class. There is one brief sentence explaining who the course is for (“students whose academic or career objectives will benefit from strong, professional-level writing and research skills”–or, in other words, everyone). How odd. The third syllabus actually has an entire module of the class (which is online) dedicated to explaining the importance of the course, which is interesting. It’s something I address in person on the first day, but probably not enough in the online version. There is also a very short bulleted list of four course outcomes, which lists standard skills one should improve in such a class. (In brief: research, topic development, synthesis, writing.)

In our syllabus, the objectives are much more detailed, and are also skills based. That’s the nature of our program–and of most writing classes. While there are some specific terms and concepts we want them to learn, for the most part they are enhancing skills they will apply to the rest of their lives. In other words, I teach the most important course at VCU. 😉 In a sense, it also makes it easy for me to teach effectively: provide direction and feedback, and let them learn by doing. (Well, at least it’s easy in theory. Not so easy in terms of time and effort.) I also allow students a ggreat deal of latitude in selecting a research topic. Lame topics are off limits (body image and the media! performance enhancing drugs in professional sports! violence on TV!), and I strongly encourage them to pick a topic relevant to their intended career, so it’s helpful to them in multiple ways. But from there, students steer their own course. This makes it harder for me, in some ways, but more valuable for them, by far.

As for whether students feel especially inspired by these syllabi and the stated or implied goals: I doubt it. Thing is, students take these classes because they are obliged to, not because they want to. I can tell them about the value of the course, but mostly they just want it over. By the end of the semester, I believe they’ve seen value, both in terms of the knowledge they’ve gained and the skills they’ve enhanced, but it’s a struggle sometimes. And in some cases, the horse you’ve led to water just isn’t interested in your watering trough. Where does that leave me? With ideas (that I’ve been tossing around for a while now) about using prior student feedback on the class to help students understand the value going in–and to provide a more dynamic, visually interesting version of the syllabus online. Unfortunately, I’m still obliged to use the boilerplate text…but I don’t necessarily have to foreground it. Whether that will make much difference to my students will be interesting to see.

My first writing assignment for my online class about online teaching is requiring me to talk about how I feel about online teaching. This summer is my first time teaching online, but I’ve taken a few online classes before and, frankly:

My online summer class started today. Dammit

— Giovanni Battistoni⚾ (@giovanni_batt3) June 1, 2015

I feel you, bro. My main issue with the classes I’ve taken, however, has been that they’re usually a bunch of bullshit. That online continuing ed class I took to maintain a certification that shall remain nameless? It replaced 8 hours of in-person training with less than 45 minutes worth of trivial crap I mostly already knew. *yawn* And the delivery? Oh, sure, I’d love to read several pages of text and then do a poorly-written quiz. Youbetcha.

Ya mom I'm doing my online class pic.twitter.com/mFgaHq8tzh

— Tanner Ingle (@TannedMann) May 28, 2015

As for my students, I worry a lot about procrastination. Some of them are on the ball, but the process of refining a research question, which usually takes 5 minutes in person, is taking forever with some of them. This is partly because they don’t always communicate well or in detail via e-mail, but also, they’re busy. Working, out of the country with family and friends they haven’t seen in months, whatever. It’s so, so easy to just avoid that particular website–and then, before you know it:

I have a week to do half of my online class 🙁

— nathan christensen (@NateChrist18) May 28, 2015

Students also have other issues, like messing up or being confused. And while I’m online a lot, I do sleep from time to time. Sometimes I even leave the house. And then stuff happens.

Staring at my post in my online class (that can't be edited once submitted) and wondering why God let this happen: pic.twitter.com/Kmr28oc3VU

— laura (@thelbaum) May 27, 2015

I also know that, while people have happy, rosy dreams about MOOCs, the reality is that they typically educate the educated–and, worse, they have insanely high failure rates. Have you ever bailed out on a MOOC you signed up for? I have.

"Identifying the Dead MOOC – New Online Course Starting in September" https://t.co/I9gzVKDben

— Kristina Killgrove (@DrKillgrove) June 2, 2015

And now, thanks to Twitter, I have something new to worry about: cheating. Did one of my students change writing styles between assignments, or did I imagine it? Why did she switch fonts? Is there even any way for me to tell if they’re paying someone else to do the work?

just did tests for about half of the kids in my online class

— kins (@kinsleymoore_) June 1, 2015

But, on a more positive note, I do think there’s a ton of potential in online classes. For some people in some situations, they’re a great (and perhaps the only) choice. And they certainly can be designed and executed well. Best of all, they offer a tremendous opportunity for faculty:

This redifines EPIC –> How to launch an online course and make $220,750 in 10 days http://t.co/vyiBQWuKNF via @harris_bryan

— Joseph Michael (@ScrivenerCoach) May 31, 2015

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go design an online course to MAKE ME MONEY. (OK, no, I really just need to grade a ton of papers.)

I am being required to blog by a nasty bunch of people at my school who want me to be able to teach more effectively online. Alas, cruel world. I have no choice. More soon.

*This is a lie.