Building Connectedness through the Course Syllabus

“We seem to assume that our colleagues and our students will intuitively be able to reconstruct the creature we see in our mind’s eye from the few bones we give them in the syllabus” – Sharon Rubin

I have always felt proud for having a succinct and nicely formatted syllabus – clean lines, white space, and consistency throughout, one that never runs over 4 pages. Honestly, I never questioned the content of my syllabus until I taught FYW at a community college using the textbook Composing Knowledge, edited by Rolf Norgaard. 

After a few years, it was obvious that students connected with certain readings, one of them being “Professors, Students, and the Syllabus,” by Sharon Rubin, which was originally published in The Chronicle of Higher Education.

Rubin was motivated to write about the problematic ambiguity of course syllabi after reviewing them in batches during her work as an assistant dean at the University of Maryland. Even though this article was published nearly 30 years ago, students still feel confused when they review their course syllabi. Our discussion on Thursday provided some insight into some ways we can remedy potential miscommunication, and I’d like to continue that discussion because my syllabus falls into both of Rubin’s dreaded categories: I am both a “lister” and a “scolder.” Before another semester begins, I want to revise my syllabi to better reflect my hopes and goals for the course, my personality, my pedagogy, and, simply put, my reason for doing the things I do with/in the course. Even though I felt moved to revise my syllabi after reading this article in the past, admittedly, I have never done so. So why revise now?

First, revising our course syllabi for our introductory TA courses is smart practice for when we are able to propose and design our own original courses, something I’ve been fortunate enough to experience. Working outside of department requirements calls for savvy choices, an understanding of how course material interacts with curriculum expectations and course objectives, and a clear justification for the course and its texts, especially when they might be seen as precarious by administration and/or students (in my case, GLBTQ humanities and GLBTQ literature courses in a very conservative mid-Michigan). It is also standard protocol for hiring committees to request sample syllabi along with explanations of course choices, organization, and so on.

Second, there are good tools out there to help us do so. Some of Rubin's noteworthy suggestions:

1. Explain the course’s organization. How do you see one reading/essay lead into the next?
2. Let students know what types of learning will be expected of them: surface versus deep learning, group work, presentations, level/amount of discussions, etc.
3. How will students with different learning styles be accommodated?
4. Explain the purpose of the assignments, outside of the assignment sheet. This could be valuable as students struggle to decode assignment sheets and essay prompts – another tricky genre where miscommunication rears its ugly head.
5. Furthermore, beyond the point value of the assignment, what will be demanded of the student? Which specific course objectives does the assignment target? 

We already know that pronouns, verb tense, sentence arrangement, narrative approach, and cartoons/images can be ways to construct the classroom through the syllabus. Here are some of my own suggestions:

1. Let students know that you are open to suggestions and feedback throughout the course.
2. Include your teaching philosophy, so the students gain insight into your approach and pedagogy through a professional lens (another genre to analyze, too!)
3. Explain your feedback philosophy for commenting (suggested by one of the students Nancy Sommers interviewed in her amazing video Beyond the Red Ink).
4. Have your current class revise the course syllabus near the end of the quarter in small groups; has the syllabus adequately captured the workload, classroom environment, course policies, and assignments?
5. Create a multi-modal version of your syllabus using a newsletter format (a “regular” version could also be available for those who aren’t “hectic Zen enough”). Why not include a snapshot of an average day in your classroom? You could even have students work together to create/imagine this document using classroom technology as a participation exercise.
6. Let your students know how you define what a good teacher is rather than just focusing on what makes a good student. I preface my syllabus with the following quote: “the central qualities that make for successful teaching can be simply stated: command of the material to be taught, a contagious enthusiasm for the play of ideas, optimism about human potential, the involvement of one’s students, and – not least – sensitivity, integrity, and warmth as a human being. When this combination is present in the classroom, the impact of a teacher can be powerful and enduring.”

Rubin reports that a University of Maryland survey showed, “there was a real desire on the part of both students and teacher for connectedness, but neither group realized that the other shared that desire. If the participants on both sides don’t understand how to develop their relationship, learning will be diminished.” A better understanding of the power of the syllabus will better prepare us as teachers and learners, match our rhetorical approaches with our audience, help us organize our courses and reflect on those choices, and build bridges that impact deep, lasting learning.

Happy Revising!