Dear College Professor: On Your Incoming Students

PALS is thrilled to have a guest post by Clay Zuba, a teacher at Xavier College Preparatory High School in Phoenix, Arizona. Zuba writes about his prior experience in the college-level classroom and asks higher education professionals to consider how to best serve the level and teaching needs of incoming students. Zuba makes the point that we need to understand how students develop as learners in order to best meet their needs. For more from Zuba, you can find his nonfiction and fiction writing about House of the Seven Gables here

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via Ed Lim Photo

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a preponderance of professors, have at least once or twice recently said to themselves, “students today . . .”

Fill in these ellipses with your most common complaint about students entering your classrooms. You may find that they cannot read critically or write clearly. Perhaps they don’t know how to pose thoughtful questions or conduct research. Or know the first thing about symbolism, or the American Revolution.

I’m a high school English teacher. I’m writing to you regarding our students, their preparation for college, and how you can best build on this preparation in your classrooms. I freely admit that I am still learning to teach my own students. And I wouldn’t presume to tell you what to do. But in my younger days, almost every faculty member with whom I spoke at least once said, “students today . . .”

Including myself. Since beginning as a high school English teacher about a year ago, I’ve learned a lot about these students. It surprised me. I wanted to share. Maybe we can work together.

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via Geoff Livingston

Who I was, and who I came to be

I was one of you once. In January 2016 I earned my Ph.D. in American Literature, with a specialization in antebellum print culture. I published. I held a number of research fellowships. Between the time I started a Master’s Degree in 2010 and I moved on from the academic job market in 2017, I taught undergraduates at six universities on the east coast, in Texas, and the southwest. I had on-campus interviews, no offers. That is the way it is for many of us right now.

I began teaching at a college preparatory high school this past fall. I teach English to juniors and sophomores at what is considered an elite high school. One hundred percent the students with whom I work will attend a four-year college. This year they have been accepted to places such as Duke, and Stanford, and Airforce Academy. But many will attend in-state land-grant universities or smaller, out-of-state niche schools private and public. My students are very likely representative of those that will enter your classrooms as freshmen.

Even though I am very good at research, I admit that I love to teach young people in writing and literature. And I believe in the mission to prepare my students for university-level study. Much like you, as a university instructor, I often found my students insufficiently prepared to undertake their course of study in higher education. A few of them had a strong foundation in writing and literature. But many of them had trouble paraphrasing a thesis in an article in The Atlantic. Even the ones that could needed to learn to think  more critically. And some of the others (literally) didn’t understand how to analyze figurative language. I admit to thinking some version of “what on earth is going on in high schools”?

What I found out is going on surprised me. It may surprise you, too. We are actually teaching students all of these skills in high schools. We are teaching them to write essays with a clear thesis sentence at the end of the first paragraph. We are teaching them the elements of the gothic as a literary genre. We are teaching them to identify and analyze figurative language. And most students take their education seriously.

However, a number of entangled conundrums await students when it comes time for them to transfer their skills and knowledge from high school to college. I come to my conclusions based on my experience teaching both groups of students, rather than empirical study. I  hope you will find them helpful.

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Four rules for teaching my high school students

  1. Reorient, repeat.

I taught them to write a strong thesis statement and identify symbolism. Even so, you need to repeat and reinforce these skills. You need to reorient the knowledge students already have for their college environment. There are at least three reasons I need to ask you do this.

First, most young students do not transfer skills and knowledge well from one environment or field to another. High school students have difficulty transferring what I teach them about writing to their history class. They have difficulty applying their knowledge of history to help them historicize what they read in my American literature class. The same will be true of your students, but they will be facing an even greater change in environments, undergoing one of the great rites of passage in our society: the transition from high school teenager to college adult.

Second, if you do not demand that students apply their old close reading skills to your new classroom, they will assume that you do not require close reading skills in your classroom. They will assume that these were only for high school. So, model close reading skills as you like to see them. This will give my students confidence as they grow to use these skills in your classroom.

And three, their brains are still growing in their capacity for abstract thought.  For example, my students’ understanding of the types of abstract ideas that symbolism can encompass and how writers attach these ideas to concrete objects, will be different than when they become your students. No doubt you have your own favorite theory of intellectual development, but for reference I’ll link to the ones William Perry first published in 1968.

Believe me, my students and I discussed symbolism in The Scarlet Letter. We spoke about how the concrete symbol of the A acts as a vessel for abstract problems of sin and self-actualization. We identified how the symbolism of the A changes throughout the novel. But I’m going to have to ask you to model this thinking again if you want your students to analyze symbolism again in the college classroom, with college-level thinking.

  1. You need to teach writing – again, constantly.

The critical thinking that your students will do about literature will be deeper and more demanding than in my high school classroom. But as I mentioned above, they do not have the experience reasoning and creating on the level of abstraction necessary for your college classroom. If they do not have expertise in thinking, these students will not have experience writing with about abstract ideas, either.

You must teach writing even if, especially if, you are a tenured professor. If you appreciate the close connection between writing and critical thinking in your own work, you will see how important it is for you to give students feedback on their writing. Because it is feedback on their thinking. And if they know you are an expert on, say, Faulkner, they will value your feedback on writing more than they did the adjunct (still an expert, but an institutionally devalued expert) who taught them to write in their first-year writing course.

  1. Foster intellectual curiosity

As a high school teacher, I hope I’m helping my students build foundations that will enable them to ask worthwhile questions about literature and writing. But because, again, they are still developing, I can’t yet help many of them ask complex, nuanced abstract questions – and most questions worth asking in college are abstract.

They do have intellectual curiosity. But they are not sure yet what is worth asking. They do not know what is debatable and unanswered. And because of this, you are going to have to teach them, at least once in your classroom, to do research. If you use your university’s databases for research, you are going to be the best resource available for using research to answer the types of questions you’d like students to ask in your classroom.

  1. Be more attentive to your students as young people.

When I was teaching college, I didn’t consider it my job to think too deeply about my students inner emotional lives. And neither did any of the professors who served as my research or teaching mentors. But they need us to be attentive to them as young people, sorely.

I see my students 4-5 days a week. It gives me an awareness of how much they look to us as examples to build their spectrum of the moral and intellectual possibilities for adulthood.

It’s true that your students have plenty of other role models in college. But most of them are not good role models. Maybe your students’ parents are not even good role models. So you need to show them you care. Check in if they miss an assignment uncharacteristically. Encourage them when they doubt themselves.

It isn’t too late for you. You can still make a difference.

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via Liz West

Conclusion

I could tell you more. But you’ve already given me your attention for long enough. If you’ve read this far, you’ve been kind enough to listen. Yet, if we are really going to work together to help our mutual students, this has to be a two-way partnership. And I want to hear from you.

What can we do, as high school teachers, to help our students prepare for college? What are the gaps between high school and college?

What am I missing in the miasma of grammar, genre, symbolism, figurative language, oral proficiency, vocabulary, historicization, themes, authors, writing structures, research skills, reading skills, et cetera, that I hope to instill as foundations for their college learning experience?

Please write back.  

Contributor Bio:

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Clay Zuba is an English Teacher at Xavier College Preparatory High School in Phoenix, Arizona, where he teaches American Literature and writing. In 2016, he was awarded a Ph.D. in American literature at the University of Delaware. His acclaimed blog love7g.com about Nathaniel Hawthorne is a precursor to his upcoming historical novel Love in the House of the Seven Gables.

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The World’s Eye and the World’s Heart: How to be a Public Intellectual

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Image source: York Heritage Quilters Guild Blog

At a time of political discord and increased activism on our campuses and in our communities, some of us may be seeking appropriate and productive ways to offer our professional perspectives as highly trained academics and educators. As a matter of fact, those of us academically prepared in the field of American literary and cultural studies have much to offer a society that is grappling with what it means (and has meant) to be an American, whose story matters, and who gets to control the narrative. Indeed, the American literature and American literary history we have spent years studying, researching, and teaching can provide remarkable and hopeful insight into this daunting political moment.

Our field birthed the original American public intellectuals Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau, who both lectured in the Lyceum movement and endeavored to make their ideas relevant and useful to the American public. Thoreau first lectured on “Civil Disobedience” and Walden to his Concord, Massachusetts friends and neighbors. Emerson’s 1837 “American Scholar” address tells us that the fully engaged American scholar is not sequestered from the public, but “breathes and lives on public illustrious thoughts.” The public intellectual, in Emerson’s view, is fully integrated into public life as “the world’s eye” and “the world’s heart.”

Although we may not see ourselves as public intellectuals in the distinguished tradition of Emerson and Thoreau or the more contemporary Stanley Fish, Claudia Rankine, and Ta-Nehisi Coates, many of us are probably already engaged in outreach, teaching, and other efforts as public intellectuals.

Public Outreach: The Service of the Public Good

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Flag (1954) by John Jaspers

The Oxford English Dictionary defines a public intellectual as “[a]n intellectual who expresses views (esp. on popular topics) accessible to a general audience.” A recent article in AAUP’s Academe explains that “[p]ublic intellectuals communicate their research in ways that are accessible to the public and translatable to the needs of communities.” According to the article, public intellectuals “apply their disciplinary knowledge and expertise to the service of the public good.”

When asked why they engage in public intellectual outreach, a survey by Morrison & Tyson Communications found that faculty did so for the following reasons:

To improve public understanding of their areas of expertise.

To enhance the reputation of their institutions.

To enjoy talking with people who have an interest in their work.

          Source: Inside Higher Ed, Scholar as Public Intellectual, January 21, 2011

In a time of great suspicion of scholars and expert knowledge, our outreach as public intellectuals could lead to regaining the public’s trust of academic institutions and academia in general.

The Organic Intellectual : Aligning Your Personal and Professional Values

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Pussy Pink Urchin (2017) by Wangechi Mutu

On my own campus in a small town in Texas, pubic intellectual outreach ranges from a music professor who conducts the local symphony orchestra; a political science professor who coordinates a program that trains student to write grants for local non-profit agencies during the summer; and a chemist who hosts a “Citizen Scientist” podcast with her husband. Many of my colleagues regularly give public lectures about their areas of academic expertise to local civic organizations, historical societies, and literary groups.

Other colleagues serve as board members for community non-profits that benefit from the specialized academic training of local faculty. A colleague and friend who teaches in Idaho has a women’s studies background that contributes to her work as a board member of the local YWCA women’s shelter.

Speaking of this friend, she recently wrote a guest post for PALS on her very successful Moby-Dick half marathon, a public outreach program organized by her students. Some of the most innovative and effective public intellectual outreach projects include students. Andrew D. Kaufman’s successful “Books Behind Bars” outreach class for students at the University of Virginia is another example.

Yet many colleagues bristle at the term “public intellectual” because it seems to reinforce the very elitism and hierarchy that we aim to diminish when we bring our knowledge into our communities. Antonio Gramsci’s notion of an “organic intellectual” blurs the boundary between the “sacred” ivy tower and the “profane” general public. According to Gramsci, “traditional” intellectuals replicate the elite class structure and hegemony of academia. By contrast, “organic” intellectuals are academics who come from and work on behalf of the people.

Today we might think of an organic intellectual as an academic whose intellectual, personal, and political values are authentically aligned and expressed through meaningful public outreach.

Writing for a General Audience

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Writing for a general audience can take the form of opinion articles for local, regional, and national newspapers. Such articles might offer perspective on current events through the lens of our academic area of expertise. We are also qualified to write about issues facing higher education, as did my colleague in response to the proposed graduate student tax in the recently passed tax bill.

Scholars may feel unprepared to do this type of writing. When I drafted an opinion article on The Handmaid’s Tale and Texas politics, I was advised that what I saw as an already concise 1,000-word article had to be trimmed by an additional 350 words. I was also told (albeit gently) to adjust my vocabulary to the 7th-grade level. Although I had to adapt to this new writing format and style, it was gratifying to have my ideas about a timely issue published right away. Unlike the peer-reviewed academic articles I have published in scholarly volumes, I received feedback from my audience almost immediately. I continue to receive comments from members of the public who come across my article online.

There are any number of articles about writing for a general and popular audience, but one very useful resource is the OpEd Project. The goal of this organization is “to increase the range of voices and quality of ideas we hear in the world,” particularly those of women. To that end, the OpEd Project offers workshops on how to write for newspaper opinion pages, with strategies on how to pitch an idea and find a venue for publication. Their website has excellent advice on the format of an opinion article and what editors are looking for.

Activism and Pedagogy

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Image Source: Edmond Historical Society and Museum

Many debate the role of activism as part of our scholarly identities. Yet these days we may find that even asking the essential questions at the heart of our field — the very questions that guide our research and teaching — can be a form of activism simply because these questions disrupt the status quo. Those of us with interdisciplinary commitments to fields such as gender and women’s studies, environmental studies, and critical race studies may find that activism is an organic extension of what we do in our research and in the classroom. Our own public outreach and activism is a way to model an intellectually engaged and active citizenship to our students.

The classroom itself may be considered a type of public intellectual outreach; ideally, our students will take and disseminate knowledge from our classes into the world as members of an informed and voting citizenry. Recent crowd-sourced syllabi such as #CharlestonSyllabus and #PostTrumpSyllabus exemplify the intersection of activism and pedagogy by constructively using expert knowledge to advance conversations about the most pressing issues of our time.

Pedagogical writing and scholarship, such as that offered through the Pedagogy and American Literary Studies site, is also an example of public outreach. In a time when many do not see the value of higher education, good teaching and its outcomes “must be made visible through artifacts that capture its richness and complexity.” Especially as the structure of the professoriate changes, we need more opportunities to substantively and transparently discuss our teaching and pedagogy as a means to move the broader professional and cultural conversation about teaching and student learning beyond outcomes-based assessment and “return on investment.”

Considerations and Questions

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Brain Circles by Marguerite Jay Gignoux

Even with the protections of academic freedom, scholars might want to be aware of the possible perils of public intellectual work, especially graduate students and contingent faculty members. Many academics may prefer to compartmentalize their professional research and teaching, their political commitments, and their personal values. And many may find that they simply do not have time to commit to public intellectual outreach.

However, many scholars have found public outreach to be a rewarding form of intellectual work. And it is a worthy and necessary endeavor. With so much at stake, our role as the eyes and hearts of our democracy has never been more crucial.

  1. Is there a better term for “public intellectual” than “public intellectual”?
  2. What can you do or are you already doing to align your intellectual, personal, and political commitments?
  3. What changes can we make in the profession to value, reward, and recognize public outreach?
  4. Have you been involved in any outreach projects as a public intellectual in your community?