Sometimes Days are a Bust (Or at Least That's How They Seem)

Today was the first day of class, which is usually my favorite day of the semester. Everyone is on their best behavior, and there hasn’t been any chance for resentments to have built between students and professor.            

But today just felt off. It didn't help that I am coming down with a head/chest cold. I made the mistake of being over-prepared. (Below I decide that perhaps it was that I was underprepared.) I designed eight first-week-of-class worksheets in place of the usual one I use on the first day of class ("How will we build this course?"). I also organized a six-slide presentation which was an overview of constructivism in higher education. I was hoping that the presentation would reveal my reasons for organizing the semester the way that I had (i.e., student-directed), but I think it just wound up being an alienating lecture—exactly the kind I try never to do.

In the first class—a 4^th year research course—we started with a self-reflection exercise called “Perceptions of Me Matrix,” in which students shared how they imagined others see them. This was based on my research this summer about expectations for racial and gender discrimination in the classroom. I wanted to see if students felt defensive about their scholarly selves so I could be sensitive to this during the semester. But nobody felt defensive or concerned. Pretty much everybody thought that others (peers, professors, friends, family) viewed them positively. Essentially the same answers were given by a first-year group of students. 

The other activity was asking after what their learning goals were for the course. In other words, if they could choose any objectives for the course, then what would those be? My first year students could hardly name one goal. A few students shared one interest, but almost nobody wanted to talk. My 4^th year students managed to turn the name of the class (behavioral research) into a bunch of objectives (e.g., learn about behavior; learn how to research behavior; learn about research). 

I’m not complaining about students, of course. I’m the one who set students up to twiddle their thumbs in this way. I worry that I’ve sort of ruined my chance to make a first impression, and that students will feel at least a tiny bit helpless.

But let me have a look at the (potential) silver linings. Dwelling on the downsides and mistakes is a sure way to continue plodding along and repeating them.

1. Fumbling through day one will make me that much more focused on day two of these classes. 
2. Making mistakes and then acknowledging, accepting, and correcting them provides an opportunity for me to demonstrate my responsibility and my willingness to admit my imperfection. It’s a chance to build intimacy.
3. I did learn a few important things in class, despite how awkward the process seemed to be. I learned that ASU students tend to be (or at least report being) confident, smart, and outgoing. Their quiet and shyness tends to be the first thing people notice, but they all suspect that their energy and extroversion will show once others get to know them. They believe that they have built a reputation of being hardworking, responsible, and dependable, even if sometimes they might seem lazy.
4. I was reminded of the importance of tone (how I address and speak to students). I was in scholar mode, having just done a deep dive on the theories of constructivism and dialogical self. (This might not be a bad thing, but it may set students up to self-monitor and only speak in that way themselves.)
5. I was able to respond to shyness and IT trouble and make changes along the way. I tried five ways of connecting my laptop to the monitor before it finally worked, for example. I moved along quickly from one activity to another when students were paralyzed with shyness/anxiety.

Mistakes I made

1. I spoke like a scientist, not like a person.
2. A few times I asked fake open-ended questions—questions in which students don’t really have a say but feel like they do. “How about we do a survey. What do you think?” etc. These are disingenuous, and students see through them as feigned personability/democratization.
3. I jumped into activities too quickly and without any sort of transition. My “constructivist learning” presentation was the transition, but this was delivered in too serious a tone or too didactic a way. I’m not sure. Maybe this is okay, provided it was sincere on my end. But I think I was a little doubtful about how worthwhile it was. Yes, it was done with an attitude of "See, I've made a serious presentation about it so that you can see that I am a serious kind of scholar."
4. I believe I was overprepared. Well, not overprepared now that I think about it. Overly optimistic might be more like it. I designed activities with optimism alone. I never asked, “So what will I do when students are blank-faced during this activity?” I imagined that each would elicit deep and personal conversations.

Word Cloud generated from students' responses to the question "How do others view you as a student?"

And now I must meet another new class tomorrow morning with these fresh disappointments on my mind. I will have the advantage of knowing keenly what not to do.