Computer Writing and Research Lab | University of Texas at Austin

First-Year Interest Groups and the Instructional Response

My class this semester has been sequestered by a First-Year Interest Group, or FIG, a group of students with similar interests or majors who take several classes together. According to the FIG office, the purpose of these groups is:

* to help students connect with each other, advisors, faculty and ultimately, to help them feel connected to the institution
* to help students make the transition from being a high school learner to a university learner
* to introduce students to resources that can support their academic work at UT and other services that can give them assistance
* to provide students a positive role model in the peer mentor whose knowledge and perspective they will respect
* to be a forum where students can explore their intellectual interests

Certainly, it seems, much good can result from these FIGs. They offer (presumably intimidated or underconfident) students the chance to "connect." "Connect" seems the verb that contains all the purposes listed above, for each bullet exists as a function of the connectivity of the FIG. The students who join the group benefit, not unlike members of a sorority or fraternity, from the ability to connect with others.

Yet my experience thus far with the FIG has provided ample evidence not only that the drawbacks to the FIG vastly outweigh its potential benefits but also that the supposed benefits above don't exactly come about.

First, there are practical problems: because the FIG students take the same classes, their uniform availability outside class causes logistical woes. In my particular case, I found out only last week that the reason no one had visited my office hours is that they all have the same class at that time. What's more, the students are available at the same times every week, and thus I can't accommodate all students who want a conference.

Second, there are social problems. Because the students are "connected," they're very comfortable with each other. This comfort does not, in itself, discommode me. The students feel at ease speaking in class, and they get along well. The problem is that they are too comfortable. They cultivated with dismaying rapidity an attitude toward college not unlike one a teenager brings to summer camp. They naturally and easily (and despite my continual efforts) digress from any attempt at intellectual rigor (e.g., the student who, in the middle of a five minute oral presentation, stopped for two minutes to tell a story about how she walked to the wrong floor in her dormitory). It's like we're in high school again, or perhaps like we never left: they're cliquish, show little respect toward me or other students (a problem I've never, ever encountered in my classes before), and don't seem to register any real difference between what they knew and what they know now. It makes me wonder whether the situation these FIGs are designed to avoid is actually a positive, productive experience: the social, intellectual, and emotional discomfort non-FIG students must overcome in their first semester may ultimately produce better college students.

Third, there are pedagogical (lacking a better term) problems, many of which result from the social problems. The best explanation is an anecdote: after I passed back essays earlier this week, the FIG students immediately shared grades with their fellow FIGsters, while the three non-FIG students in class (who, incidentally, got some of the best grades in the class) immediately took time to read and, I assume, think about my comments. Within 24 hours, three FIG students had contacted me to complain that they thought their essays were graded unfairly compared to other students' essays. More generally, the connectedness of the students has worked against, not in favor, of the "exploration of intellectual interests."

I mean this not as a horror story, but as a speculation that these FIGs don't do what they say they do, that in fact they do the opposite. Could there be some good in unconnectedness?

recent grading *****-ups

I tried to explain my grading system on response papers to the rhetoric students as follows:
check plus--thoughtful, careful response
check--okay, but half-hearted
check-minus--barely made an effort
0--not done

Now I've got a lot of students telling me, insisting to me, that they tried very hard on their responses, and deserve the PLUS given their effort. Le sigh.

That grading system worked fine in my English class for English majors, and they never asked me to explain it to them further. With the rhetoricians, they are worried and worse, defensive. The reason most of them aren't getting the plus is because they aren't following the assignment instructions. (And I do point that out, faithfully, on paper after paper.) But notice, actually following instructions isn't in the rubric. Thus, confusion.

Criteria for Effort/Care

I would say that a "thoughtful, careful response" and (their translation) "trying very hard" or putting in "effort" includes reading the assignment carefully. Yes?

Assignment Gray Areas

I think that...and other instructors may think that, but I don't know if that does figure in a student's thinking sometimes. I'm dealing with some of this on a shorter assignment right now. I think a student sometimes walks away feeling that the instructor is missing the larger point by not focusing on what the student has written, but pointing instead to some technicality. The question is how to dispel that notion.

Another issue with the smaller assignments that do not get a letter grade is that students seem to want to translate them into letter grades anyway, which presents, I think, a new set of problems in terms of differences in perception between instructors and students.

Credit/No Credit

One way I dispel the notion that I'm focusing on minor technicalities is to make most small assignments (i.e., not papers) credit/no credit. Either they turn in the assignment and get the credit, or they don't. This principle not only rids me of the need to "sell" the grade, but it also gives students a sense of efficacy (if not actual efficacy).

The trick is to design every such small assignment as part of a streamlined process that leads toward the assignments that are graded. I continually emphasize precisely how small assignments will make longer papers easier and better, how hard work on the intermittent steps will make the paper less strenuous.

a matter of criteria?

It seems that the students instinct to check with one another is linked to this assumption: that grading is done in terms of comparison amongst papers. That is, they think that you read through papers and grade them based on how they measure up to one another. But (at least I'm assuming) this is not what you do, right? You grade the papers based on some set of criteria that you've established. That criteria is documented somewhere: in a document that says "here's what an A, B, C, D is" or in the assignment sheet/prompt.

So, I guess what I'm getting at is this: it seems that we need to teach students how our grading systems work. We need to provide some sort of guide on how to read comments and how to understand grading.

The fact that your students are friends doesn't seem to be the problem - the problem seems to be they don't quite understand how grades are determined. I think teachers of literature, rhetoric, writing (and I'm including myself in this) sometimes forget to be very clear about how grading works and what the criteria for success are. If we're clear about this, it seems we'd get fewer "but you gave him an A, and my paper is better" emails. Incidentally, this is why I like the LRO (a portfolio-based assessment tool that has students argue for their grade) - it is very up front about grading criteria, going so far as to make them a point of conversation/negotiation between teacher and student. No, it's not perfect. Yes, students can game the system. But students can game any system.

On the other hand...

I take your point about the importance of articulating as clearly as possible what an A, B, C, D, or F signifies--that is, what makes an essay successful or unsuccessful. Yet, perhaps only for the sake of conversation, I wonder whether one's attempt "to be clear about how grading works and what the criteria for success are" can go too far, whether it can falsify the nature of the subject by presenting it as a science, which assumes the plausibility (and even objectivity) of a rigorously applied set of standards, rather than an art, which sometimes (or perhaps always) bursts apart criteria, their clarity of definition notwithstanding.

I don't know too much about the LRO, but doesn't it work on the assumption that a student's individual traits and skills set the criteria for determining a final grade? And doesn't that assumption actually work against the kind of objectivity you (and I) might want to hang your hat on?

transparent grades

All I know is, I'm much, much, much more explicit about how I grade than any professor I ever had. And I still get complaints that the grading process is not clear. Maybe their "confusion" is just irritation that they didn't get a better grade.

A note on student "confusion"

So if a student expresses "confusion" about a grade and claims that the expectations were not made clear, what happens then? Commenting and grading are part of the educational process, as revising and rewriting are part of the writing process. When students bring their graded papers and confusion to us during our office hours (or in class, at which point we say "come to my office hours") we have the opportunity to take our students through our grading process. In fact in many cases, with my own students, I've discovered additional errors when I've sat with the student to go over the graded paper. And on more than one occasion the student ended up agreeing with the grade.

While we strive to develop "explicit" grading rubrics (or some other valid method of assigning a number), taking them through the process allows us to (1) demonstrate the stages that we went through to come to the grade, and (2) participate actively in the revision process with an experienced guide. So when students express confusion, I think we should note how interested are they in really going through their papers to improve it. Will they meet you during your office hours to find out how they got the grade and improve their work? Or will they just continue to complain about your objectivity?

Objectivity

Hmmm...One thing I've never been accused of is using an "objective" grading system. Students typically find the LRO to be "too subjective." Students argue from their own grade, but they do so based upon criteria. I don't see any other way of evaluating (a text, a student, or anything else).

I guess Liz's use of the word "explicit" is maybe a better way of saying what I wanted to say. No, we don't necessarily need a "rubric" (I hate them - I've tried them) that says "these exact things will get you these exactgrades." However, grading does need to be demystified. Calling grading an "art" (which is how I read jon's claim...unless he was saying that "writing" is an art) is fine if by "art" we mean something that requires some finessing of the criteria. That is, no set of criteria should ever be considered to be written in stone. However, can you say more about how grading "bursts apart criteria"? Maybe we're saying the same thing: finesse = bursting apart?

I see this as our point of agreement: rubrics with unmovable criteria bad. Now, where do we go from there? I say we still need to give students a pretty good sense of what "success" is. How we do that is up for debate...maybe that's where it becomes an art.

Case in point

I'm sorry--I don't think I was explicit enough in my second post (and there, perhaps, we near the wellspring of the original problem). I need some kind of Blog Handicap that understands what I want to express and puts it just right. Isn't there a Google Add-on for that?

Anyway. We seem to agree pretty closely. The "art" I refer to is that of rhetoric and writing, though surely grading too qualifies as an art, especially since the very best graders bring to their work an inimitable grace--a finesse, if you will. As an art and not a science (a worrisome distinction, I admit), as a practice constituted by something so clumsy and unmimetic yet real as language, writing bursts apart the criteria we would place upon it. Take literary history, or this blog post, as a case in point. Thus it's essential to be highly explicit about expectations and what not when we discuss essays with students. We agree that "explicit" is the right word.

Warning flags should raise, however, when we find ourselves identifying explicitness with objectivity (and here I do not refer to you, Jim, but merely use this moment as a launching point for my own faux-faux-polemical position). That Jones, after striving to explicate grading procedures, continues to answer grade complaints argues better than I can that what students perceive as a flaw in the grading system (what they call "subjectivity") is not a direct function of explicitness or lack thereof. Perhaps in our grading we should recognize something other than the twin concepts of subjectivity (so distasteful to students) and objectivity (so distasteful to good deconstructionist teachers). I don't know what to call it, or what I'm even getting at. (But in the event that I figure it out, I'll call it Lambjectivity (Copyright 2007, All Rights Reserved).)

Lambjectivity

Um, Jon...all material on Blogging Pedagogy is published under a creative commons license. So, be ready for someone to mash up your latest creation - lambjectivity. I'm looking forward to the Kanye West remix.

friends in class

I don't have any experience with FIGs, but I do wonder sometimes about what our roles are in promoting friendships among students.

I rarely made friends in my classes as an undergraduate, but the friends I did make were pretty special to me (and the classes where we met were almost always very good also). Therefore, when I see friendships developing in class--students exchanging e-mail addresses or phone numbers, for example--I take it as a sign that I'm creating a stimulating environment. One particularly happy day I paired students up for peer review based on their paper topics, and there was a wonderful atmosphere of students talking excitedly with each other about literature.

In order to foster friendships and improve the overall atmosphere of the class, I often let the students pick their own partners. But of course, then I run the risk of certain students 1) feeling left out of certain cliques or 2) getting stuck with a slacking student repeatedly (since the students often pair up the same way when left to their own devices). Yet, I've noticed if I do mix up the pairings, often students seem uncomfortable with each other--and even ignore each other in spite of the fact that they are supposed to be working together.

When I taught elementary students this semester, I sharply reprimanded anyone's rude behavior toward other classmates, and even revoked privileges a few times when the students were particularly mean to each other. If only I could punish my college students for juvenile cruelty by taking away recess!