The Higher Ed Ally

The “Good” Old Days 

When I studied History in the late 1980s, I understood that reading was a natural expectation. I came into higher education with my shiny, new PHD in the early 2000s expecting the same from my students. Even in an undergraduate General Ed course in U.S. History, I assigned 100+ pages a week of reading. This was the norm as I understood it, so when I began my higher education career, I followed the same template.  Choose a comprehensive textbook from a large publisher, lecture on it during class, ask for student input in discussions, get none, give an exam or assign a paper on the readings and lecture topics. I hate to admit it, but I thought that if it had worked for me, it should work for my students.  Right? Wrong! 

When I studied History in the late 1980s, I understood that reading was a natural expectation. I came into higher education with my shiny, new PHD in the early 2000s expecting the same from my students. Even in an undergraduate General Ed course in U.S. History, I assigned 100+ pages a week of reading. This was the norm as I understood it, so when I began my higher education career, I followed the same template.  Choose a comprehensive textbook from a large publisher, lecture on it during class, ask for student input in discussions, get none, give an exam or assign a paper on the readings and lecture topics. I hate to admit it, but I thought that if it had worked for me, it should work for my students.  Right? Wrong! 

Learning the Hard Way

It didn’t take long to realize that most of my students weren’t reading the material.  My grand idea was to just ask them why. I didn’t call anyone out by name; I just posed the question to my students.  It is important to clarify that, at that time, I taught evening classes at a local community college.  Most of my students were adult learners with full-time jobs during the day and families to care for before and after classes.  I’ll address learning how to teach adult learners in a future blog, but for now, read on to find out how that discussion turned out. 

The conversation with these students was more enlightening than any traditional research project on the topic could have offered me at the time.  As a new PhD, I came into the class thinking I knew more than my students, which was true about the course material.  On the other hand, I was a young academic in my early 30s.  Some of my students were twice my age.  They had life experience to share with me, for which I am eternally grateful.  

The Conversation

This is a summary of how the conversation went: 

Me: I noticed that many of you missed some of the most basic questions on our latest quiz.  Most of these questions came straight from the textbook.  So, did you guys read the material or not? 

Student A (a confident adult student): I skimmed it but didn’t read every single word. 

Me: Anyone else? 

Student B (a shy, traditional-aged student): I tried, but I didn’t really understand what I was reading. 

Me: Wow!  Did anyone else feel this way? 

A half-dozen or so hands went up. 

Me: (shockingly) Really?  Can you guys elaborate? 

The conversation continued for a good 30-45 minutes of my 3-hour course, and the answers gave me information that has stayed with me throughout my career, and they mostly mirrored what Alonso notes in the article. 

Student Input

Students saw the reading as too erudite, unnecessary, and exhausting.  Several of them agreed that the author used overly academic wording, making it a challenge to fully grasp the arguments and key points.  Others claimed that the reading was redundant because they understood the material better when I explained it in class.  Still others discussed the fact that they had very full lives and schedules and could not find time to read 100+ pages each week for a single class, while also prepping and studying for other classes and fulfilling their other personal responsibilities. 

Responding to Students

This conversation made me pause and seriously think about what I wanted to accomplish by assigning readings for my courses.  Prior to my next academic year, I read articles and chatted with colleagues and mentors about how to improve my teaching.  At the start of the 4th year of my academic career, I began to seek out other ways to convey the information to my students.  I started assigning shorter, more focused articles.  My course materials began including vetted websites that provided information in diverse ways. I also turned to useful video lessons to share information in “quick hits,” while offering additional, longer films and documentaries to provide more detail. 

I even threw in a few “culture days” that included making recipes from the regions or eras that I was teaching.  My students loved days like this, as most came to class straight from a 9-5 with no time for meal in between. Most importantly, from my students’ perspective, I stopped giving reading quizzes. Yes, I continued to provide a “recommended” textbook but stopped requiring one every term.  When I did require a textbook, I ensured that it was short (less than 500 pages), succinct, and as straightforward as possible. 

Potential Flaws

“Wait,” you may say, “all you did was dumb-down the material.”  You might ask, “why did you give into the students instead of demanding that they read the assignments?”  Further, you may think that I failed my students by lowering my expectations of their ability to complete the readings. You might be right, but I noticed that my students’ participation in class discussions increased.  Students read the shorter amount of material.  They watched the assigned videos or listened to the podcasts.  My students started to demonstrate stronger critical thinking in their papers, and more enthusiasm during class.  The smaller amounts of reading increased the level of success among my students. Their grades improved, but not because the course was easier, but because they understood the material better and could, therefore, digest it more thoroughly. 

So…how to adapt?

I’ve now taught in higher education for 20+ years. Students’ willingness to read extensively continues to decrease.  As I shifted most of my teaching to asynchronous, online classes in the mid-2010s, I dug into this idea even farther. 

In online courses where I have the freedom to design the course, I continue using short readings, film and video, interactive websites, and podcasts as content delivery methods.  Especially in courses where most students are not history majors, they do not need to know the minute details of historical events.  Sure, when I teach a course on WWII, I want them to know the key dates, leaders, and locations of the events.  They don’t, however, need to know the daily troop movements of each unit.  They don’t need to know the detailed differences between the various weapons used by each side.  If they have interest in those topics, they have an opportunity to dig deeper into it through a semester-long, multimedia project that I assign in my courses.  In the end, though, most don’t need an academic textbook to understand the material.

Adapt and Adjust

As I have mentioned several times within this blog (The Ally’s Insights), I believe that educators, we must acknowledge the world in which our students currently live .  The internet, AI, YouTube, TikTok, and all other ways to access information are not going away.  The attention span of future generations will continue to decline. If we hope our students learn content and critical thinking skills, we must accept that readings from specialized texts won’t help us reach our goals.  Of course, students need to read and write, but it is possible to do these things within shorter, more focused readings and other methods of content delivery. 

I would love to hear how you are adjusting to the unwillingness or inability of students to read course materials.