A Philosopher's Blog

Philosophical Essays on Many Subjects

High school

Why College Students Miss Class

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Lecture Hall I, UMBC, Wednesday night, fall se...
Lecture Hall I, UMBC, Wednesday night, fall semester, 2010 (Photo credit: sidewalk flying)

Cutting class is a time-honored practice among college students and it is to be expected that students will honor this practice by spending some class time away from class. However, state colleges and universities are being pushed to gather and assess data in order to justify the funding provided by the state. A key part of retaining funding is to provide data showing that students are graduating in a timely manner. As might be imagined, when students fail classes, this tends to slow down their graduation.

At two recent meetings I attended there was a discussion about classes with high failure rates and the question was raised as to why students were failing these specific classes. While my classes had failure rates well within the expected norm, I decided to formalize what I had been doing informally for years, namely generating a picture of why students fail my classes.

Not surprisingly, I generally noticed a correlation between a student’s attendance and her grade: low attendance generally correlated with a low grade. I have also noticed that attendance has grown worse in my classes over the years. Based on conversations with other faculty, the same is true of other classes. As such, it seems reasonable to consider that lack of attendance helps contribute to the failure rate and thus to the slower and lower graduation rate.

The hypothesis about low attendance does not get to the heart of the matter-what is needed is information about why students skip classes. To this end, I set up an initial study in which students self-reported their attendance and selected the reasons why they missed classes. I also inquired about the main reason students missed classes. Naturally, I also gather data about student attendance using the class roll.

At the end of the semester, I had 54 responses out of 140 students.  Interestingly 73% reported attending at least often, with the largest percentage (30%) claiming to attend 80-90% of the time. 26% claimed to attend 90-100% of the time. As might be suspected, this self-reported data is not consistent with my attendance records. This can be explained in various ways. One obvious possibility is that students who would take the time to respond to a survey would be students who would be more likely to attend class, thus biasing the survey. A second obvious possibility is that people tend to select the answer they think they should give or the one that matches how they would like to be perceived. As such, students would tend to over-report their attendance. A third obvious possibility is that students might believe that the responses to the survey might cause me to hand out extra points (which is not the case and the survey is anonymous).

In regards to the reasons why students miss class, the highest (by far) self-reported reason is work. While this might be explained in terms of students selecting the answer that presents them in the best light, it is consistent with anecdotal evidence I have “collected” by overhearing students, speaking with students, and speaking with other colleagues. It is also consistent with the fact that many students need outside employment in order to pay for college-work schedules do not always neatly fit around class schedules. If this information is accurate, addressing the attendance problem would require addressing the matter of work. This could involve the usual proposals, such as finding ways to increase support for students so they do not need to work (or work as much) in college. It might also involve considering some new or alternative approaches to the problem.

I also found that of the primary reasons students report for missing class, the fact that the coursework is on Black Board was in second place. This certainly makes sense. Since the graded coursework is completed and turned in through Black Board, a pragmatic student who is focused primarily on simply getting a grade as a means to an end would see far less reason to attend class. Since the majority of college students now report that they are in school primarily to get a job, it makes sense that many students would take this approach to class.  However, there is the obvious risk in this pragmatic approach: as noted above, low attendance tends to correlate with low grades, so students who skip the class on the assumption that they can just do the work on Black Board and pass might find themselves having chosen poorly.

Based on this information and other findings, Black Board is a double edged sword. On the one hand, Black Board has resulted in an improved completion rate for work precisely because students can do the work or turn it in more conveniently and around the clock. On the other hand, using Black Board as the sole means for turning in work does allow students to skip class while still being able to do the work. What needs to be determined is which edge cuts more. That is, is the (possible) reduction in attendance outweighed by the advantages of Black Board.

As a final point, the current sample (54 students) is rather small (leading to a margin of error of  about +/- 14%) and not as diverse as it should be (the sample is made up entirely of my students). The sample, as noted above, could also suffer from bias since students freely elected to participate.

However, the initial findings do provide some useful information.

 

How regularly do you attend Dr. LaBossiere’s class?

Always or Nearly Always (90-100%) 14 26%
Very Often (80-90%) 16 30%
Often (60-79%) 9 17%
More Often Than Not (51-59%) 6 11%
Not Often (30-50%) 3 6%
Rarely (10-29%) 4 7%
Almost Never or Never (0-9%) 2 4%

If you miss class, why do you miss it?

Work. 23 24%
Family/Personal issues. 11 11%
Illness. 12 13%
I am too tired. 7 7%
Athletic event. 0 0%
Social activity/event. 0 0%
Job interview. 4 4%
I need to spend the time on other classes. 6 6%
I am not interested in the subject. 3 3%
I do not value the subject. 1 1%
I already know the material. 3 3%
I do not like the professor. 1 1%
The professor is not very good. 1 1%
There is no penalty/punishment for missing class. 0 0%
I can learn the material on my own. 5 5%
Exams & quizzes are on BlackBoard and not in class. 11 11%
I can pass without attending. 5 5%
Other 3 3%

If you do not attend class regularly, what is the primary reason?

Work. 15 28%
Family/Personal issues. 3 6%
Illness. 6 11%
I am too tired. 3 6%
Athletic event. 0 0%
Social activity/event. 1 2%
Job interview. 1 2%
I need to spend the time on other classes. 2 4%
I am not interested in the subject. 2 4%
I do not value the subject. 0 0%
I already know the material. 2 4%
I do not like the professor. 0 0%
The professor is not very good. 0 0%
There is no penalty/punishment for missing class. 0 0%
I can learn the material on my own. 1 2%
Exams & quizzes are on BlackBoard and not in class. 10 19%
I can pass without attending. 3 6%
Other 5 9%

 

 

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Defending the Humanities: Practical Value

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In a previous essay, I noted the concern that the humanities are in decline in the academy. In this essay I will argue in defense of the practical value of the humanities.

Honesty compels me to admit that some of the problems faced by the humanities are self-inflicted. First, humanities faculty have generally not done a very good job “selling” the practical value of the humanities to students, parents, politicians, and society as a whole. Part of this might be the result of the notion that humanities faculty should not stoop to selling their beloved disciplines like a pimp sells his hookers. My view is that the practical value of the humanities can be shown without descending to the level of what would amount to intellectual prostitution.

Second, some humanities faculty devote considerable time to saying and writing ridiculous things about absurd matters as well as creating pointless academic problems whose solutions would achieve nothing of significance. These absurdities infest the professional journals and abound at the professional conferences—thus perhaps making it a mercy that the general public studiously ignores these venues. Those who become masters of both self-promotion and empty absurdities are often the most lauded of faculty—enjoying excellent compensation, modest workloads, and considerable attention. This enables critics of the humanities a ready stock of easy targets when they wish to argue for the uselessness of the humanities. Having endured finely nuanced deconstructions of cybernetic genders in fictional spaces, I have considerable sympathy for their disdain. However, I will endeavor to show that this fluffy absurdity is not all there is to the humanities and that there is actual practical value to the disciplines of the humanities.

Before entering into my defense of the humanities, I must first engage in a brief discussion of practical value. After all, to show that the humanities have practical value requires having a concept of practical value. There is also the matter of the often overlooked concern about why a specific view of practical value should be accepted as the proper measure of value.

Interestingly enough, defining practical value and arguing why a specific view of practical value should be accepted are both subjects that fall solidly within the humanities, specifically my discipline of philosophy. While some will obviously be tempted to go with their own view of practical value because it is “obvious”, this would be to engage in the fallacy of begging the question—that is, assuming as true what actually needs to be proven. Thus, one obvious practical value of the humanities is that it is needed to sort out the very nature of practical value and to determine which view of practical value that should be accepted.

For the sake of the discussion and brevity, I will stick with a fairly simple view of practical value that is popular in certain circles. The basic idea is that the practical value of a major is its economic value. Put a bit crudely, this can be considered in terms of how effectively job fillers are created for the jobs created by the job creators. The general measures of value would thus involve employment rates and salaries.

One common stereotype is that those majoring in the humanities are doomed to unemployment or, at best, poor salaries. Anecdotes (and jokes) do abound about people who got a degree in a humanities discipline and ended up doomed. However, as any philosophy major should know, an appeal to anecdotal evidence is a fallacy. What is needed is not anecdotes but statistical data.  Conveniently enough, Georgetown University released a detailed report on this matter.

Based on the usual stereotypes and common anecdotes, one would expect theatre majors, literature majors and philosophy majors to have very high unemployment rates as recent college graduates. Interestingly, theatre majors have an unemployment rate of 6.4%, literature majors are at 9.8% and philosophy majors are at 9.5% (unemployment rates are significantly lower for experience degree holders). Interestingly, the information systems (14.7%) and architecture (12.8%) have the highest unemployment rates. Computer science (8.7%) and accounting (8.8%) are fairly close to the humanities. Those doing best are elementary education majors and (5%) and nursing majors (4.8%).

Taking employment as being a measure of practical value, these statistics show that humanities degrees have practical value. After all, the employment rates for those with humanities degrees are competitive with non-humanities degrees.

In terms of compensation, the humanities fields generally offer less salary than some other fields. However, the average income of a college graduate in the humanities considerably exceeds that of the average income of a high school graduate. Thus, by this measure of practical value the humanities do have practical value. Thus, when people ask me what someone can do with a humanities degree, my cynical (but truthful) answer is “get a job and get a paycheck.” Some people get some very good jobs and some even become famous.

In addition to the concern about the practical value of a humanities there is also concern about the value of humanities classes—especially those that students are “forced” to take. While schools do vary, it is common for universities to have a humanities requirement and various non-humanities majors often require classes in the humanities. For example, the Florida public university system requires students to take two classes in the humanities. As another example, many of the students in my Critical Inquiry, Ethics, Aesthetics and Introduction to Philosophy classes have to take these classes for their non-humanities major.

It could be argued that “forcing” students to take humanities classes is a waste of student time and money (especially given that tuition is at an all-time high and graduation rates are still depressingly low) because such classes have no practical value to the students. That is, these classes do not contribute provide practical skills that would have a practical payoff. As with the humanities majors, it will be assumed that practical value in this case is a matter of economics.

Some humanities classes do have clear and general practical value. Obvious examples include the basic English classes (writing skills are uniformly useful), critical thinking classes (which is all the rage today), and logic.

Other humanities classes have practical value that does depend on the context. For example, those intending to be involved in overseas business can benefit from humanities classes covering these nations. This relative value is not unique to the humanities. For example, a class in biochemistry will not be particularly useful to someone who plans to manage a company that develops game apps for iPads, but it would be unreasonable to dismiss the class as useless simply because it is useless to some people.

Since the practical value of a class can be relative it is well worth considering whether or not a specific class has practical value for a specific major or student. As such, I would not claim that all humanities classes have practical value to all majors and all students. I would also not claim that all science or math classes have practical value to all majors and all students. However, the mere fact that a specific class does not have practical value to some students or some majors does not entail that it has no practical value.

As a final point, there is some concern that people should be reluctant to make an appeal to the practical when defending the value of the humanities. After all, this would seem to concede too much to those who regard themselves as opponents to the humanities. Rather, it could be contended, the defenders of the humanities should avail themselves of more traditional appeals to the inherent value of the humanities.

There is some merit to this concern and appealing to the practical does run the risk of handing a considerable advantage to those who wish to diminish or dispose of the humanities. However, I would contend that the humanities can be defended on practical grounds without abandoning the more traditional arguments in its favor. In the next essay in this series I will endeavor to argue for the value of the humanities on non-practical (that is, non-economic) grounds.

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Troubled Student

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Jared Loughner is the accused shooter in the terrible incident in Arizona. Before that he was apparently a troubled student at a community college.

Since I am a professor, people have asked me if I have ever had students like that. While I have never had a student go on to shoot a politician, I have had students who were clearly disturbed or troubled by psychological issues. In some cases, these students were able to function reasonably well and they sometimes asked some very interesting questions or brought a rather unusual, but intriguing, perspective to various matters. In other cases, the students were actually rather scary and made the other students afraid with their behavior. Over my years in academics, I have seen or heard of students at various schools actually getting to the point where the police had to intervene, sometimes physically. In some cases, these students were actually legally banned from returning to campus or even ended up in jail.

In the light of the shooting, people might wonder why such students do not get locked up or forced into some sort of treatment. There are, of course, various reasons.

One reason is that professors and universities are often very worried about law suits and are hence reluctant to take action against troublesome students until they become truly troublesome. It can also be difficult to distinguish between a student who is a bit odd from one who might be violent, at least initially, and to take action against a student without sufficient justification can be a legal mess.

A second reason is that it can be difficult to distinguish between a student who passionately holds unusual views from someone who might become violent. Very intelligent people are sometimes very odd (I had a professor who would hide behind the drapes in class and make strange noises-but he was very sharp) and hence it can be hard to discern between the harmless oddities and those who will cross over into actual violence. Obviously enough, most professors and college officials are not experts in mental illness and hence are generally not qualified to make evaluations-except when it is rather evident.

A third reason is that colleges are rather limited in their intervention powers-or are at least reluctant to intervene. People sometimes think that college works like high school, but this is not the case. If a student is disruptive, I have two basic tools: persuasion and calling the police.  Colleges are also different from high schools in a very important way: we are not dealing with legal minors and hence this limits what can be done. For example, calling the parents is not generally an option. College officials can, of course, suggest counseling and can get the police and other officials involved. However, students are generally legal adults and hence are free to do as they wish as long as they remain within the law.

A fourth reason is that college officials and professors are just like everyone else: they have other concerns to deal with and when it comes to disturbed students the main hope is that they will either settle down or go away. In the case of colleges, their main function is not to sort out which students are unstable and treat them. That seems to be a responsibility of the state.

While there are state mechanisms in place for dealing with mentally troubled people, they seem to need some improvement. While violent incidents do serve to illustrate the cracks and holes in the current system and lead to discussions about the system in the media, it seems that little is ever changed. After all, when an incident occurs, I always seem to hear all the same things I heard after the last incident. I predict that when the next incident takes place we will see yet another rehash of the same comments.

Of course, dealing with such people does seem rather problematic. One obvious problem is balancing the rights of individuals against the need for community safety. While we do want dangerous individuals dealt with, due care must be taken not to violate rights in the name of security.

Another obvious problem is funding. While funding for things relating to defense and terrorism has been quite good, the funding for treating people with mental illnesses or emotional problems tends to be lacking. In general it seems that the matter of emotional/mental problems is largely left to individuals-at least until a criminal action is committed. From a practical standpoint there is the usual concern: would the cost of dealing effectively with such people be worthwhile in terms of the harms prevented? We obviously live with the system as it is and generally seem to be content with it-at least between incidents.

A final obvious problem is the challenge of treatment. While we have advanced a bit beyond lobotomies and electroshock, our ability to deal with emotional and mental problems is still extremely limited. It can also be argued that our society and culture is highly damaging to people and that having a mentally healthy population would require significant changes to society.

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Rules

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Tomorrow is the start of a new semester. As always, I updated various rules and policies in my classes in response to problems from the previous semester. Every semester a student finds a clever (or nor so clever) way to twist a policy or creates some new problem that requires yet another policy.

When I first started teaching, the rules and policies were very basic. A class syllabus was  only one and  a half pages-and most of that was a listing of all the topics. Each year more and more was added. In some cases, this was due to the university adding some new requirement (those are usually of zero interest to the students, so I would put them in tiny font to save space). In other cases, as noted above, I had to add them in response to students. At first I was reluctant to add policies and naively hoped to rely on common sense (“yeah, you have to turn in the paper before the end of the semester to get credit for it”) and good intentions. Yes, I had read Hobbes long ago. Yes, I should have known better. But I was young. Not surprisingly, I quickly learned that I had to add rules and policies.

Some of the reasons I added more polices and rules were positive ones. The first was so that students would know these rules and policies upfront, rather than finding out when they happened to do something (or try to do something). Another reason was fairness-every student had to fall under the same rules and policies and this meant codifying my practices about such things as extra credit, make-up work, late dates and so on. A third reason was to set limits on what the students could and could not do in the hopes that they would be less likely to, for example, try to text answers to each other during tests or skip class relentlessly. If they elect to do those things, then I can simply point to the syllabus and note that they were dutifully informed.

Of course, I also added more rules and policies when I heard stories of students contesting grades and making complaints against professors. While this is not very common, I had no desire to be open to a long and problematic academic adventure of this sort. Less seriously, I also noticed that it was not uncommon for students to assume that if there was not a written policy on something, then that entailed that they could do whatever they wanted.  I also noticed that students seemed to be more and more inclined to miss or not do work and then come in with various excuses.  Hence, I started piling on the rules.

I suspect that actual laws often grow in number the same way, assuming that people are acting with good intentions. If people just did what was sensible and acted responsibly, that would really cut down (but not eliminate) the number of rules that would be needed.

I do actually review my rules and policies to see if they can be removed or need to be changed. Sadly, I have never removed a rule, only added more. I have modified them, however. In some cases to tighten up loopholes and in others to make them more fair. That sort of review is, unfortunately, rare in the “real” world.  Some of my review questions are as follows:

  • Is the rule needed or can people be counted on to act correctly on their own?
  • Is the rule fair?
  • Is the rule clearly worded and concise?
  • Does this rule improve the learning experience, impede it or neither?
  • Is the rule insulting?
  • Is the rule reasonable?
  • Will the rule create more trouble for me or reduce it?
  • Would I be willing to abide by this rule if I were a student?

As the Spring 2011 semester starts, my students will be ignoring my new 7 page syllabus (which includes two forms-one for requesting an extension on the paper and one for special circumstances).

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The 3/4 Class

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As a professor I face various challenges in designing my classes. While some of these challenges are obvious (like selecting just enough material to cover), others are less so. One of the less obvious challenges I face is designing a class that maximizes education while minimizing my problems.

While I have fewer problems to deal with than K-12 teachers, I still face various problems. At this time of year (1 week before finals), the problems revolve around students who are doing poorly but have only come to realize (or accept) this. In some cases, students are just now picking up tests and papers from weeks or months ago. As I write this, I still have papers and tests that still have not been picked up. While most of them are passing or better, I do have some that are not-and some students who probably are unaware that they are not passing. While I do make the grades available online (securely), some students do not learn of that until the end of the semester, when they hear other students talking about it.

As far as the specific problems, the main ones are students who ask about extra credit (= points for nothing), students who ask about doing more work, students who want an incomplete, and students who want to be passed simply because they need to graduate/keep a scholarship or avoid parental wrath.

Naturally, requests for points for nothing or for passing grades because of a need to graduate or whatever, are easy to handle. I just offer a “no” and my sympathy, plus some advice about how to pass (if it is possible) or how to retake the class.

Incomplete requests are handled on a case by case basis. In most cases, students ask for them because they are failing. However, incompletes are intended for students who were passing but could not finish the semester due to some dire event (like major illness or military service).

As far as more work goes, my usual reply is that I would need to offer the same deal to all the students. I go on to note that is just what I do: my classes have a lot of work-4 tests, 15+ quizzes and 25+ assignments in Critical Thinking (as an example).  Also, if someone has been consistently doing poorly on the work, getting more work would probably not change that.

But, getting back to the design of my classes, I have also tried to counter/solve some of these problems with my 3/4 approach (picked mainly for the name rather than mathematical accuracy). The gist of this that I count roughly the best 3/4 of a student’s work. For example, in my Critical Thinking class, the best 3 of 4 tests count, the best 10 of 15+ quizzes count and the best 10 of 25+ assignments count. Each student also gets a small bonus as well to his/her quiz and assignment grades. In classes that have a paper, the paper does count-but it is done in drafts and students have a long time to complete it. Plus, each student gets +5 added to his/her grade on the paper.

When taking this approach, my hope was that it would reduce the problems I (and my students faced). While the students do have to do well consistently to get a good grade (as opposed to classes that have just a midterm and  final), the idea was to provide a “damage buffer” for cases in which students had problems that were serious enough to impact their performance. This way the “buffer” would handle such problems without a need for special problem handling at the end of the semester. Problems of a more dire nature would, of course, not be handled by the buffer-but these would almost certainly either qualify a student for a legitimate incomplete or allow a retroactive withdrawal.

When I was young and naive, I had hoped that this approach would eliminate such problems. After all, it seemed so generous that anyone should be able to get through a class with a modest amount of effort-even if they faced challenges and problems in the semester. Anything worse, I reasoned, would be easily handled by an incomplete or retroactive withdrawal.

Experience revealed what you, the reader, probably already guessed: I was somewhat surprised to find that the impact was far less than I expected. Every semester I still have students with the same problems and the reduction in problems seems rather modest. Of course, it must be noted that most of my students do well-they pass and have no problems. However, I had hoped for more success and wondered  why it had not worked as well as I had hoped.

One hypothesis is that the “damage buffer” is not big enough. That is, even more work must be offered so that the students will be able to do and pass the minimum needed. So, for example, perhaps offering 25 assignments and counting the best 10 is not enough. Perhaps 50 is needed. Of course, I do offer 15+ quizzes and that seems to get the same result as offering 25+ assignments. This suggests that it might be the required number that determines what people do. So, students look at the fact that there are 10 required quizzes and assignments and some just do less than 10, even though 15+ and 25+ are offered. Of course, if I increased the required work to 12 or 15, this would just mean that certain students would do less than 12 or 15. This leads to the next hypothesis.

Another hypothesis is one put forth by a friend of mine. His view is that problem students (his Peters’ Principle is that 20% of the students cause 90% of the problems) will be a problem no matter what a professor does. For example, if a class offers 10 assignments and requires 10, this sort of student will do just 5. If the professor offers 15 and requires 10, the student will still do just 5.  The same sort of hypothesis can be applied to society at large: no matter what you do, problem people will still be problems. You can, at best, reduce the numbers a bit.

While I do suspect that expanding the buffer would marginally reduce the number of such problems, this would create other problems. One problem would be that I would have to do more work-every extra quiz, assignment or test is one I have to create and grade. Another problem is that if the buffer is too large, a student could pass without learning enough of the material, which would undercut the educational value of the course. At this point, I think the buffer is large enough to offer reasonable protection for the students while at the same time being small enough so that the proper academic standards are still met.

As a final point, another reason I designed my classes with a buffer is for my own peace of mind. By offering such a buffer, I can honestly believe that I have given the students a very fair chance at doing well in the class and that a student who fails actually fails himself/herself. True, I could probably have a smaller buffer (or none at all) and still be justified in believing that the students have been given a just and fair chance to pass. However, I like to have a bit of a buffer for  myself.

One of the most dramatic vindications I had of my approach occurred after a final. One student was complaining loudly about his grade and how unfair I was for “failing him.” Another student, who had already earned a solid A,  looked at him and said “You’d have to be a total f@ck up to fail this class. He gives you every chance in the world. If you fail, it’s your own damn fault.”  While I would not word it that way, that is how I design my classes-so that people get what they deserve.

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Why So Few Excellent Teachers?

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Since I have a fair amount of experience in higher education, I will venture to answer this question. One obvious reason is that teacher salaries at the K-12 level generally are not that great. However, even when the salary is good, the rewards for excellence tend to be disproportionate to the excellence. That is, teachers often get out far less than they put in.

Interestingly enough, one drain on the pool of excellent K-12 teachers is probably higher education. If someone loves to teach and has excellent abilities, they will quickly realize that the college/university level provides far more return for the effort. The pay, status, facilities, and benefits are generally much better. The problems are far less. In my own case, I did a stint as a high school teacher. While I love to teach, running study halls, dealing with discipline problems, and so on all made the job more of an ordeal than a pleasure. So, I did the obvious thing and became a professor, thus keeping the best aspects of being a teacher and ditching most of the bad ones.

Another obvious drain on the pool of excellent teachers is that someone who has the virtues needed to be an excellent teacher (intelligence, knowledge, leadership, creativity, charisma and so on) can excel in other fields that generally offer far more to a person. Such an amazing person could start her own company, have a high paying and rewarding career, or become a major force in politics. While some people do find the rewards of teaching to be sufficient, obviously enough most people with such excellence do not. They seek other careers and far greater rewards.

While it is tempting to say that such excellent people should be suitably rewarded (bribed) into going into K-12 teaching, there is the obvious question of whether the resources spent to get such stars would yield greater benefits than spending the same resources to get more average teachers. While sports teams can often afford to pay stars cosmic wages, there are actually very few professional sports teams while there are many,  many schools.

Of course, improving salaries and fixing the problems that make teaching K-12 unpleasant can go a long way in improving the quality of education. This might well be better than trying to take a star approach.

Another reason why there are so few excellent teachers is that there are relatively few truly excellent people. After all, think about your own general experiences at stores, work, and so on. How many truly excellent and amazing people do you know? Of course, I suspect that one reason why we have few excellent people is that our educational system has some serious problems. This creates a rather unfortunate problem: we need a better education system to get better people, but we need better people to have a  better educational system.

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