“Dr. Mooneyham, I have submitted the essay you requested and would like you to replace the zero from the gradebook because I’m very worried about my score. Please let me know as soon as you do this.” This recent call to action from a student of mine kicked off the time of the semester dreaded by teachers nationwide—the several weeks leading up to the end of term when students who have been non-communicative for months now realize that deadlines are looming and the frequent reminders from their teachers alerting them to sagging grades aren’t some poor attempt at a joke.
I’ll pause my lamentation to clarify that I and my colleagues are endlessly empathetic of and cooperative with students who experience unexpected events that prevent them from finishing their coursework at the last minute; we are all human, after all, and not to demonstrate grace and mercy in tough times goes against the very nature of the educators I know. Last summer a young woman in my class received word that her mother had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and my student wanted and needed to travel out of state to spend the final weeks of her mother’s life by her side. It required no contemplation on my part to request an extension on the student’s behalf so that she could finish her coursework a month later than her classmates.
I know the effect it can have on a student when they possess a real need only to have their teacher shrug their shoulders with a “Hey, the rules are the rules” kind of attitude and offer no support. When I was seven years old my grandfather became gravely ill and my mom was the only person able to take him to appointments and then later plan his funeral and care for her mother in the days that followed. These unexpected duties, along with caring for two young children and her husband, made it a challenge for her to complete coursework for the accounting class she’d been taking. Amazingly, the only task she did not complete on time was a test that was scheduled for the morning of her father’s funeral. When her teacher, upon learning this news, told my mom, “Sorry, you’ll earn a zero but can still pass the class with a high C,” my mom’s spirit was broken and while she finished out the semester with the only C she had received as an adult college student, she did not return to complete her degree.
Years later when I was in graduate school, a classmate learned that she had breast cancer that would require chemotherapy and radiation treatments that left her too weak to make the two-hour round trip to campus for our classes. Those of us in her cohort went to the professors to ask if we could record the classes (these were the days before Zoom revolutionized the educational experience) and then meet with her at her home to catch her up on anything she missed. All but one of the instructors responded with such compassion, saying they would do what they could to work with her. The one, however, informed us that he hated it for her, but that if she were not physically present for his lectures then she could not pass his class. My friend’s cancer has been in remission for twenty years now, and she earned her Ph.D. a year after the rest of us. She’s moved past that negative experience and believes that it helped remind her of the kind of teacher she never wants to be.
Coming back to the first of a half dozen emails I’ve received from panicked students this semester: I don’t believe I’m alone in my practice of documenting every attempt at communication with students; the educators with whom I work have been at it long enough to know that when students are not successful in our classes, we are held accountable. More than that, we truly do want our students to do well. The reality is, though, that students can have selective memories for the effort they have made and the work they complete, and teachers need to have immaculate records of every attempt to reach a student. I know that I had a melodramatic “but it’s not fair!” streak myself when I was a young student, and so I can’t in good conscience castigate wayward students too harshly lest some of my former teachers with whom I’m now friends remind me of my reliance on SparkNotes or my tendency to lean heavily on the intellectual prowess of friends to pass chemistry! Still, I have detected a decidedly entitled tone in quite a few student missives—a kind of “Yes, I turned in that assignment a month late, after repeated reminders from you; now hop to it and give me credit for it” theme that is troubling.
For years now my generation has complained of knee pain, abysmal contemporary music, and the lack of work ethic in those coming along behind us. I can’t disagree with that last opinion although I would qualify it to say that a number of those in my generation are of questionable stick-to-it-iveness themselves. What catches my attention is the trend toward shirking responsibility and then fully expecting absolution, salvation, and special allowances. More than once I’ve received messages from students that say something along the lines of, “I know I haven’t submitted three major assignments and only attended class a few times, but I don’t think it’s fair that you hold me accountable for not knowing the material.”
College 101 or College Success classes have become increasingly popular and even required for incoming freshman, which I fully support. Providing a curriculum of responsibility, humility, appreciation, and respect might seem like something a college-aged student wouldn’t need, but I believe it might be one of the best ways to reverse a trend of behavior that will ultimately serve no one.
PartWolf 