This is the time of the semester when many students are shocked—shocked!—to discover they have really, really, bad grades. Of course some wait until right before (or even after) the final exam to inquire, "Can I do extra credit?" or "When can I re-take the tests?"
Based on many years of anecdotes, as teachers gather around the camp fire, the ensuing dialogue invariably involves faculty telling such students to …well, first of all, read the syllabus, which contains all the information one needs on how the grade is calculated.
Students with genuine emergencies have usually presented themselves by this time, so the conversation with others may have an edge. Something like:
Instructor: "Do you have a syllabus?"
Student: "I guess I lost it."
Instructor: "Well, here's another one. It's also online, by the way, and has been all semester. Now, I notice that you've rarely attended class, failed all the tests so far, and didn't hand in any assignments. Also, you didn't respond to our college's "early alert" system or to your mid-term grades. And you've never asked to see me before now. What's up with all that?"
Student: "I've had problems. But I'm going to be okay, right? I made good grades in high school!"
All too often, community college students face a daunting bundle of personal and financial obstacles to their success. But there is another dimension, too. An absence of personal responsibility and a growing sense of entitlement on the part of many students are commonplace as well. Teachers know this already, but others may need an education, in this period of "outcomes-based" alternatives.
Students who under perform are nothing new, of course. (Scholars point out that Plato's Republic was written partly out of fear among the Athenian aristocracy that their prized young men were becoming hedonists and slackers.) However, it would be helpful for today's educational leaders to assert occasionally in the public forum that students should be held accountable also. Furthermore, when we recruit new students—as we should—it wouldn't hurt to tell them repeatedly that hard work and sacrifice are part of the deal.
A recent post by Eliana Osburn in the Chronicle of Higher Education (subscription may be required) gets into it.
A sample:
I got one of those e-mails I dread, the ones that come a few times a semester. “I thought I was doing great,” a student wrote, “but I see that I have an F. Can you explain?”
Sure I can explain, but students don’t seem to listen. Grades in my course, according to the nonnegotiable syllabus from the college, are made up of tests and essays. That’s it.
And:
After midterm grades I hear from another batch of students. Those who feel like giving up. “Is there any way I can get my grade higher?” comes the plaintive e-mailed complaint. Yes, I reply. Come to class every week and do every assignment.
That is not the answer many of them want to hear. They want extra credit, chances to make up tests, magic points that appear out of nowhere just because they asked.
I generally let students correct and improve their essays. I teach mainly low-level developmental English courses and the point is to get students’ skills to a place where they are able to complete regular college coursework. Students who don’t take advantage of the opportunity I offer to improve their essays, and thus their grade, have a hard time gaining my sympathy. I just gave a grade to a paper after the fourth set of revisions. I am sick to death of reading it. But the student was willing to keep trying so I figured I could only do the same.
I don’t want students to fail in my class, but there is a level of competence that must be reached. Part of learning to be a college student is learning to accept the consequences of your actions, especially those that hurt your grade.
Comments