News, Views and Careers for All of Higher Education
July 6, 2005
“They’re just darlings,” my co-worker said. “Absolute darlings.”
“Uh-huh,” I agreed, staring at my grading sheet. She is discussing five athletes at the private, four-year university where we teach. As another part-time foreign-language instructor comes in, I overhear their
conversation.
“Well, they’ll never get through nine chapters,” said the “darling” woman.
“Oh,” responded my friend, a woman who teaches Spanish.
“I’m going back to Chapter Five,” said the first instructor, “I just love teaching these darling, darling boys.”
I sat there, stunned. Was I hearing correctly? Was she simply dropping half of the curriculum to cater to a few students who couldn’t do the work? Later, when we were alone in the office, I commented, “It’s so hard to get them to work, but I keep pushing. I’ve got to get them through the whole book or they’re sunk next semester.”
“Oh, well, that’s how it is with English comp, I’m sure,” said the “darling” woman. “I mean you’ve got to cover the material.”
“How is that different with Spanish?” I finally asked.
“Oh, well, I’ve got to make sure that they really get it.” She responded. Frustrated, I couldn’t think of anything else to say. This adjunct had developed a curriculum based on department-approved course objectives. She had turned in copies of her syllabus to the academic dean for approval. Then, frustrated by her students’ inability or unwillingness to learn, she had simply chopped off the back end of her course.
Later she had confided that there were a few students who were “getting it,” but that they would simply have to review the same materials over and over until the end of the semester because she was catering to the athletes. That morning, as my colleague left for her class, I jotted the note, “curriculum rip-off” in my notebook. Something would come of this, I thought. Something.
At lunch that day, with the provost at the head of the table, I commented that a fellow instructor wasn’t teaching the curriculum. “What do you mean,” the provost asked, voice surprisingly kind for a man in power.
“She said the athletes in her class weren’t learning,” I paused, unsure if I should go on, “so she cut out the last four chapters of the book.”
“You’re kidding!” said a physics instructor to my right.
“She’ll review them later, right?” the provost asked.
Trembling, I kept my hands in my lap, “I got the impression that she wasn’t going to teach the last four chapters at all.”
“Really,” said the provost. “What’s her name?”
“Oh, I really couldn’t say,” I mumbled, gathering up my half-finished tray.
Face reddening, I made my way to drop off my tray. What had made me speak up? Me, an adjunct? A part-timer with no tenure, no security, no voice. I didn’t bring it up again. In the next days, I asked co-workers innocuous questions about their classes. I found it hard to make eye contact with the provost.
What had made me speak up? Anger. A feeling that not only would the next instructors to teach these students be frustrated, their jobs only made that much more difficult, but the students were being ripped off in a wholesale fashion.
According to the students, the less they were taught, the better. But I knew better. And I had been on the receiving end of some of these half-taught students. One of my colleagues at a large community college in California had confessed that he passed any student who would sit through his course. With no work to grade them, he simply gave them all C’s. He was not the only one, I realized.
When I had struggled with a student whose grammar was shockingly poor and who could not form a decent paragraph or essay, I sometimes wondered if they had simply tested well on the eligibility exam or if an unwitting colleague had passed them on to me.
And what did the students get out of this? Yes, their semester was easier. Yes, they had less homework. Yes, they could spend more time on sports. But at what cost? Their education was being whittled away by instructors who could not or would not insist on the curriculum. It was a simple matter of trading the short-term for the long-term goal. Given the choice, I knew that a smaller percentage of the students would vote for learning all that they were promised. Yes, some would complain and wheedle, but I must believe that instructors know better.
We are in a position of power and we must not misuse that power by stealing. And when we lop off a part of the curriculum that is too bothersome or too difficult for some students, we are stealing from all of the students. One colleague confessed that she often had to switch lesson plans around to teach what she needed to — but she always covered the chapters that she had promised.
I’m not sure if she had been burned by a colleague or if she simply knew what the right thing to do was, but I admire her stance. I, too, frequently find that I need to “borrow from Peter to pay Paul” in lesson making, but I always cover the curriculum. Even in the classroom, when I am tempted to cut out a section that once seemed important, I review the materials later in my office and talk to senior instructors who can guide me.
It is dangerous to make impromptu decisions at the chalkboard. More often than not, I am dreaming of new ways to teach something that seems tedious — a new essay, a new exercise, or examples taken from my own classes. Anything to get them to see the lesson in a new way. My struggle sometimes reminds me of my effort to clip my terrier’s nails. After an hour my struggling and his howling, I finally brought my dog to the local veterinarian and paid the $15. His nails did get clipped. In the same way, I struggle with curriculum, but in the end, it gets taught.
My last concern was a big one — what about our accreditation? This four-year university already had a poor reputation. Once known as a feeder campus for Stanford University, its price tag now seemed to have no correlation to its rigor or value. What if our accreditors found that we were not teaching the curriculum? What if they somehow found out that we were not achieving the course objectives that they had originally approved. What then?
After working on committees at the large community college in California, I had learned a healthy respect for the powers that be. Whether one was a tenured full-time instructor or an adjunct, we simply did not have the right to make such decisions on our own.
Suddenly I was thankful for those who had mentored me — even those kind souls who sat at lunch with me. Their opinions, ideas and suggestions were helping to shape me. Every day, every semester. So many teachers, struggling, wrangling, working to be sure that curriculum gets taught. What a blessing to be one of those who hold the line. And those who benefit? We do. Instructors, administrators, and, most importantly, the students.
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Shari,
Thanks for a refreshing perspective on a pervasive dilemma. Also, thank you for your commitment and courage.
I’d like to add another chort to your list (at the end of your letter) ... society.
In my opinion —and experiences— if there are no consequences, there is little chance for behavior to change.
In fact, I’d argue (not now) that educational institutions fail miserably at even being able to articulate a realistic and reasonable set of objectives for granting someone a degree ... as the standards to be met for awarding the degree are often couched in vague terms, waivers, caveats, and exclusions.
The provost, the academy, it’s full faculty, the accrediting agency, the Board, all —individually and collectively— are responsible for confronting issues as these and actually crafting a strategy to correct the problem.
Until that time —which doesn’t seem to be in the immediate future— anything less than accountability is simply spin.
Regards,Michael
Michael, at 10:12 am EDT on July 6, 2005
We are in a business; we make a product. People decide to buy the product based on their perception of its value. As time goes on the perception gets adjusted by experience.
Honda Civics were introduced in the 70s. Yugos were introduced in the 70s. Each was an unknown quantity. The Hondas worked; the Yugos fell apart. Nobody will buy a Yugo now.
This adjunct is making bad pieces for whatever product the college puts out.
Stop her! (Be nice if she’ll respond to it).
Rich Godfrey, Texas State Technical College Marshall, at 10:58 am EDT on July 6, 2005
As mentioned above, thank you for your hard work and dedication. However, I’ll admit, I was a little shocked by your line “It is dangerous to make impromptu decisions at the chalkboard.”
I can’t imagine always sticking to my lesson plan as designed while sitting in my office. Sometimes the plans bomb, and I’m supposed to stick to it? Whereas I don’t think you should just dump curriculum, I think serious adjustment of your teaching plans is par for the course in our profession. In other words, some of who I would consider are “best teachers” are the ones who are best able to adapt on the fly to help facilitate learning.
I also think that different courses, with different evironments, students, time-frames, etc., also begin to adapt the course curriculum (outcomes) as best for that particular circumstances. Again, I don’t think anything is dropped; however, how things are defined, time of coverage, assessment, etc. are all shifted to best work within the specific circumstances.
Ultimately, I do not agree with what the foreign language instructor did; however, I’m afraid stories like this will start turning higher education into the current K-12 system where it feels the faculty have absolutely no control over their curriculum.
Shelley Rodrigo, Facu"lty at Mesa Community College, at 12:02 pm EDT on July 6, 2005
I agree with the “letter” but not the “spirit” of the comment. Dropping segments of a course to accomodate students who are not doing the work is a bad practice. However, I find that complaining to administrators about colleagues is rarely helpful and it tends to encourage an administrative regime that can be hostile to academic freedom and good pedagogy. Rather, one should discuss concerns with colleagues and respect their professional judgments and practice. There is also an important distinction between a syllabus and a course description (or curricular component). Most college faculties approve a general statement of course content, a description that finds its way into catalogs, etc. Sometimes syllabi are submitted as supporting documents, but more as examples than as “requirements,” for most courses will be taught over time by different instructors, with different experiences, interests and values. Individual instructors will hopefully construct and view their syllabi for their courses as intended plans for the semester, subject to change as circumstances dictate. Perhaps more can be added. Perhaps new directions can be taken. And, yes, sometimes as a practical matter assignments need to be dropped. This should all be done, I believe, in consulatation with the class, and due notice of all changes should be given. Rigidity, however, is a defect, not a virtue.
John Bing, Professor at Heidelberg, at 2:24 pm EDT on July 6, 2005
The article is all about academic integrity. What has being an adjunct got to do with the issue. The implication is that only adjuncts would do such a thing. Regular full-time faculty would be just as likely to favor athletes. What is missing from this article is anything behind the causes of the instructor’s behavior. Where is the NCAA compliance officer at this school?
Bob Pankin, Special Lecturer at Providence College, at 3:49 pm EDT on July 6, 2005
I am surprised that you would find this situation shocking. Undesirable yes, shocking. This situation has been around for a long time but has become very prevalent over the last twenty or so years. The colleges and universities have become the minor leagues for professional football and basketball, especially the later. Many “student athletes’ are lucky if they can put together a grammatically correct sentence let alone a paragraph.
However, this is ‘tolerated’ by many institutions of higher learning because sports translates to big bucks. That is the bottom line. Especially if the institution is very prominent in athletics. While there are exceptions, it is more the rule.
The sad part is twofold; the ’student athlete’ is obviously not receiving the education he/she should be receiving and often never receives a degree, but, it is also denying the true student with athletic ability the experience of competing in interscholastic sports.
As long as the money is there, the institutions will bend, stretch and manipulated academics to keep the ’student’ in sports.
Case in point, The ’student athlete registers for the minimum number of credits to be matriculated. However, the ’student athlete’ never attends a single class. At the last possible minute, the ’student athlete’ withdraws from all courses. Thus, the ’student athlete’ was able to devote the entire semester to athletics while remaining eligible to play because he/she was matriculated.
As the saying goes, “Follow the money".
John S. Pawlowski, Adjunct Profesor at Pace University, at 7:08 pm EDT on July 6, 2005
As a student myself, this article made me extremely frustrated. I sit in class each quarter with athletes who are disruptive in lectures,and make it impossible for everyone else to learn. From what I’ve seen, their class time consists of playing games on their phones, listening to their iPods, carrying on full conversations in the middle of a lecture, doodling, or sitting quietly staring into space. I always wondered how they passed their classes. Then I learned that it was simple. All they had to do was show up. Each athlete had a tutor who came to class with them, would take all their notes for them and then review with them before the test. All they had to do was show up and they would get credit. This enraged me! And after reading this article, I realized that things like this are allowed to happen because no one has the courage to stand up against it. Having a winning team has become more important than teaching kids the invaluable knowledge they will need to succeed in the real world. I really wish someone would stand up for the kids who want to be in class and who value their education instead of those elite few who only have to show up.
Jacquie, Frustration! at Crown College, at 7:14 pm EDT on July 6, 2005
I had no idea that my complaint about a colleague could set off so much discussion. I’m sure if I’d been a tenured (or even f/t) professor with a Ph.D., I would have found a ground to breach before making a comment to an administrator. However, this professor was a Ph.D. and also taught at Stanford University! After trying to discuss my concerns with this instructor, I realized she had an “I’m above it all” attitude which made it impossible to get through. I did hear later that the provost and dean were talking to professors in that department to “establish some guidelines” on how to teach the curriculum. This may be a regular event at this campus—or my comment may have guided them to action. I would never suggest that only adjuncts are perpetrators of this kind of “curriculum rip-off.” I’m sure that many f/t instructors cut corners... but in this case, the instructor’s part-time status made it very difficult to detect. She teaches “under the radar” and goes about her business—unaware of the how wide-reaching the effect of her corner-cutting really is. I will say that a colleague of mine (in the same department as “corner cutter") is a wonderful instructor with a friendly demeaner. She spends many hours a week developing fresh lessons and working with students long outside her office hours. Strangely, the campus originally cut the number of Fall classes offered to this qualified and over-performing instructor while giving “corner cutter” an extra class! I think this near-Ivy-league feeder campus really valued the fact that “corner cutter” had a Ph.D. and already taught at Stanford—even though the other instructor was a far better teacher. In America, we are taught that performing results in prestige and money; in academia? Maybe. Maybe not.
Shari Wilson, Instructor at Northern California, at 4:29 am EDT on July 7, 2005
It’s not just the student athletes, and it’s not always that the deans don’t know about it. I once had a dean’s son as a student, and he saw no reason why he should have to take the majority of the tests to pass the class. After much hassle with administration, I agreed to accept some after-the-fact extra credit work in lieu of a test grade and gave him a low passing grade. Of course, I was not rehired to teach that course. (This was at a school considered one of the best in its system, too.)
Another department I worked for in the same school rehired largely based on the student evaluations of adjuncts, as the “the-student-is-the-customer” philosophy was in full force there. Adjuncts who don’t please the students by giving them all high grades for little effort just gum up administrators’ offices and schedules with students who feel there are always better ways than demonstrating that one has learned the material to get a good grade.
In this arena, there’s lots of blame to share.
Thane Doss
Thane Doss, at 4:30 am EDT on July 7, 2005
Having worked with Division I athletic departments under NCAA review, I find this viewpoint puzzling. IMHO, there is more scrutiny of stident-atheletes, than ever before, and it is increasing.
http://www.statenews.com/article.phtml?pk=30638
Rightly or wrongly, athletics are an integral part of university culture. At the Division II and Division III levels, as many as 20% of the incoming class may be there, just to play sports. If you find that troubling — you might want to find another field to work in.
Bob, at 8:25 am EDT on July 7, 2005
What’s the big deal? Why shouldn’t the teacher build the class around her little “darlings"? This will be good training for the rest of the class, learning that we are a celebrity-driven culture. Besides, it is the athletes who bring “star” quality to the college. Think Notre Dame would be such a big deal if Knute Rockne hadn’t made it easy for a few football players?
Waldo, at 3:10 pm EDT on July 19, 2005
This is an old column, but the subject is always good. We must really prepare our students for the fact of life that ATHLETES ARE ABOVE IT ALL. They owe nothing to nobody, need not worry about morality, as long as they have a good lawyer and money to pay for him. Isn’t this what happens in society? Just watch the news and you will see how even those who purport to be just covering the news cater to athletes. In college, we should do exactly the same, showing Johnny-who-plays-ball that the world is his, as long as he plays well.
Jon, at 11:10 am EDT on April 27, 2006
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The responsibility — and the loss — sit in the lap of the Provost. There will always be the unknowing and the lazy and the stupid in any profession, along with their excuses for not caring. But the Provost heard of the problem. And appears to have done nothing to follow up.
This concerned teacher should have gotten an invitation to lunch with the dean of the school, or a senior professor, who could protect their confidentiality while finding out about the adjunct who was shorting the course. Then, working on an assumption that the poorly performing instructor just did not know how to do the job, arrange to visit the class (adjuncts are virtually always subject to some review) and gently tease out the information. Additional help with teaching or curriculum development could be arranged, if the college wishes to put the effort into developing the poorly-performing adjunct. Or if necessary, termination.
But Provosts and Deans cannot remediate what they have no way of knowing, and here was a source of information about someone doing ill to their primary clients — their students. I wonder what the Provost said to his/her spouse that evening.
bwd, at 9:00 am EDT on July 6, 2005