Molly Robinson Kelly, Associate Director of the Lewis & Clark College Teaching Excellence Program
For two semesters in a row, I have taught in Lewis and Clark’s first-year core course, Exploration and Discovery (which we L&C people refer to as E&D). Before that, I hadn’t taught E&D for many years. Faculty participation in E&D is voluntary, and the reasons for my long absence from this course, which is required of all first-year students, were many. Mainly, increased administrative duties had me administering more and teaching less, and I needed to devote the courses I did teach to my home department of French Studies. However, let’s face it: I didn’t mind too much, because E&D, as a writing-intensive course, involves a good deal more grading than other courses. Not to mention that the first time I taught E&D, my student course evaluations for it, although not terrible, were considerably less gratifying than I was used to in my French courses.
But last
spring, I steeled my courage and stepped back into the first-year classroom
with a course entitled “Insiders / Outsiders.” And discovered very quickly that
I loved it. As in really, really loved it. I went to that class every day with
a sense of… well, joy. So much did I enjoy teaching my first-years that I
quickly rearranged my schedule for this fall to teach E&D again. And I’m
loving it just as much. This has prompted me to ask myself: why do I love
teaching first-year students so much? What is it about this experience that
distinguishes it from my teaching in French Studies (which I enjoy very much too,
just to be clear)?
I have
realized that what I value so much about teaching first-year students falls
into three basic categories: the kind of teacher it allows me to be, the kind
of learners it allows my students to be, and the kinds of place it allows Lewis
and Clark to be.
1. The Kind of
Teacher it Allows me to be.
Freedom of content.
I had near-total freedom to design this course to align with my interests of
today. Not my expertise, not my scholarly background, but my interests.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about (and, if I’m honest, bothered a lot by)
the ways we humans create in-groups and out-groups, especially when it comes to
who exercises power in society. Teaching a first-year seminar allowed me to
read the books I’ve been wanting to read without ever finding the time, and
talk with others about questions I’ve been grappling with. I was just as
intellectually stimulated by the course as my students, and our mutual enthusiasm
felt infectious and invigorating.
Freedom of form.
Teaching first-years, especially first-semester first-years as I am now, I felt
authorized to go “off script” in ways I had not before. The same reality that
can be daunting (“Good heavens, they need everything from me!”) can be
liberating (“But on the other hand… they need everything from me!”). When a
student mentions with frustration or confusion something that came up for them
on campus, it seems reasonable to me, knowing there are only first-years in the
class, to dive right in and address it. In my classes, we’ve discussed a wide
variety of useful things unrelated to our course content: what to do at an
advising appointment; how to take a nap that doesn’t make you feel more tired;
whether pre-requisites are really pre-requisites; whether to eat before or
after a test; how to manage homesickness; how to address noise disturbances in
the dorm; why we read / write / discuss so much in college. I can go off script
spontaneously and still figure I’m doing my job, as a teacher of first-year
students. I love the freedom this gives me to talk about what they need to talk
about.
Influence. It is
no secret that the first year of college can be instrumental in either setting
students up for success or failure at college. I like knowing that I can make a
real difference in my students’ college careers.
2. The Kind of Learner it Allows my Students to be.
Newbies. Taking
class in a group made only of first-year peers and a teacher who volunteered to
be there lets students relax and admit the things they don’t know more
comfortably. No one needs to pretend they get it when they don’t.
Not-yet-belongers.
Everyone arrives at college needing to find people and places where they can
belong. It doesn’t happen overnight. Students in first-year-only classes can
look around them and know that everyone else is in the same boat. And as
teachers, we can know that the energy we put into creating a sense of belonging
in the classroom really matters.
Students learning to
be students. Most first-year
students realize that they don’t yet know how to do college, and they are open
to learning. They can invest time and effort now learning to read well,
write well, and communicate effectively with their teachers, and know it will
pay off for the next four years.
Excited about
college. First-year students still feel the newness of being at college:
the autonomy, the greater social openness and acceptance, the sense of wildly
increased intellectual stimulation. Being able to witness all this up close
reminds me over and over what is wonderful about my job.
3. The Kind of Place it Allows my Institution to be.
More than in any other year, it’s in the first year of
college that the institution gets to show its students what it cares about,
what it expects, what kind of people you can meet there, what kind of learning
you can do there. In other words, it’s fertile ground for what we could call
“institutional self care.” If institutions swing and miss in this endeavor (or
never swing in the first place), they will never have quite such a golden
opportunity again. But if they can hit the ball out of the park in the first
year, they will reap benefits for years to come.
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