How not to prepare for life after college
Too many students fail to ‘be present’ in class and are fearful of contributing
Let’s begin by noting I have contracted terminal Curmudgeon Syndrome. That’s because the behaviors of many of the young I’ve taught recently have made me more symptomatic than usual.
After 30 years of teaching undergraduates, I find myself disturbed by two increasing patterns of many students’ behaviors — not speaking or asking questions in class and the triumph of cell phone use over face-to-face conversation.
Both have consequences for those who wish to be journalists or communicators. Both behaviors may also have an impact on just learning how to be a decent human being in everyday life.
First, the lack of class participation. For years, the final exam for my writing courses was this: Discuss your reporting and writing strengths and weaknesses as exhibited in this course. What did you do poorly? What did you do well?
They only had to write about 250 words. Much of the time, the final exams submitted contained inflated views of their performances in the course. Other times, sheer BS dominated. But since the pandemic, an admission of fear crept into students’ responses. A few samples [emphasis added]:
Asking questions is a big part of succeeding. I feel like I didn’t do enough of it. I should’ve asked more questions; I did not advocate for myself enough.
I did not talk in class or ask questions during mock press conferences. I did not want to be wrong or ask the wrong questions.
Another weakness I had was a lack of participation in class. Which for me, goes back to a confidence issue. I just did not want to be wrong.
During mock press conferences, I did not ask the questions myself to get the information I needed. I relied on questions asked by my classmates.
In class I did not speak up and ask questions enough. I feared the embarrassment of answering a question incorrectly or asking the wrong question, even if I knew the answer. I relied on others to ask the questions instead.
I did not trust my own judgment. In class, I would sometimes be afraid to point out an error in a story. ... I need to stop being afraid. I need to start acting on something, instead of worrying about being wrong. Mistakes can be our best teachers in life.
These students had selected a college major in the communication fields — journalism, advertising, public relations, broadcast journalism, and so on. These fields require the ability to ask questions, challenge answers, and express a point of view. Those skills require continual practice. A college classroom is safe place to practice and to hear constructive critiques of their efforts. Yet, in my courses, too few students used that opportunity.
A possible consequence of the lack of practice? Imagine a new employee, who shied away from participating in class, at her first staff meeting in her new job after graduation. Her supervisor says, “I need ideas for a new PR campaign. Who’s got one?”
If this new employee fails to raise her hand and contribute an idea, what are her chances of being invited to the next staff meeting? Those who do not contribute do not add value to their employer.
Yes, raising one’s hand to express an idea is a risk. She could be wrong. But she could also be right. But if she never takes a risk, then she misses possible reward.
A college classroom is a crucible. Ideas should be tested, both by students and their professor, in a collegial fashion. Students’ contributions to those discussions of ideas should lead to new ideas and new approaches to examining ideas. A good classroom is not unlike a steel mill where raw materials are mixed to create something new that’s strong and resilient. Students and faculty interact in a classroom, and something new is created, something, I hope, sufficiently resilient to resonate long after the course ends. But that doesn’t happen when students choose to be silent.
Next, the addiction to social media and smartphones.
Many faculty have experienced this: Upon arriving at class, many students will be doomscrolling on their phones (or placing sports bets) while waiting for class to begin. They are not engaging with each other in a communal fashion. I’m sure they’d say they have sufficient opportunities to interact with each other in other venues. Yet that noncommunicative, doomscrolling behavior is not what students were doing 15 years ago at the beginning of class. They were talking. They were telling stories. They were asking about each other’s lives. They were socially proficient. They were becoming a community.
The young need practice and experience in sociality — living together in an organized way as a society, dictionaries tell me.
Diverting one’s attention from a class lecture or exercise to respond to a text that has nothing to do with the class is not an act of sociality.
Sitting in office hours discussing her work with a professor and deciding to interrupt the conversation to respond to a text is not an act of sociality.
Interviewing someone as a student journalist, then interrupting the interviewee’s answers in mid-thought to respond to a text is not an act of sociality. (That’s happened to me several times. I bluntly end the interview and tell the journalist to leave. And I don’t tell the journalist why.)
(Remember, I learned manners in the 1950s. If today’s young need a few lessons in manners, I recommend Emily Post.)
Sociality requires people to be considerate of each other. Many students’ behaviors with social media and smartphones rudely shout, “My needs trump your needs.”
There’s another aspect of sociality many students may not be adequately preparing for — working together in an organized way in employment.
It’s not news that members of Gen Z and younger millennials have different perceptions about the nature of work and the workplace than older generations, particularly in regard to ethical behaviors. They also expect “inclusion in decision-making, transparency, well-being, serving a worthy purpose, personalized attention, flexibility and a positive ethical culture. Younger workers also place a high value on work-life balance …”
But have they earned those considerations? Supervisors of Gen Z employees say they’re fed up with other behaviors — particularly excessive phone use and a poor work ethic. The result, according to The Washington Post, “is friction around how much employers should bend to individual needs. As young workers vocalize their expectations for work-life balance, they are labeled by some people as ‘unprofessional’ and ‘entitled.’”
And, according to The Post, colleges are beginning to rethink how they coach students about their expectations of employers that might not be amenable to students’ value demands.
I teach journalism and writing in a communication school. Employers expect our faculty to expose students to necessary entry-level career competencies. We do that. But too many students, especially since the pandemic, do not understand the importance of being present and being prepared to acquire those core competencies.
Texting in class is not being present. Not being present begets not being prepared. Not participating effectively and consistently in a course also begets not being prepared.
I can only hope the serial texters find in that digital world something of greater value than what a teacher provides instead — an ability and a patient willingness to help students become the best versions of themselves.
Sadly, serial texters and those silent in class are wasting their tuition money — money they’re paying to become well-prepared for life and the workplace after college. And many will still face paying off federal student loans that average nearly $40,000 nationally.
Opportunities wasted rarely return. Not learning to take risks as simple as raising one’s hand forgoes the chance to gain a reward. Doomscrolling, too, frankly, is its own form of waste — the loss of a chance to be a better communicator. And isn’t learning to communicate effectively why students are in my courses in the first place?