At the end of August, several thousand of our students got up onstage for our graduation ceremonies. I participated in all of these ceremonies—twelve in just under a week— and my pleasure at being there only increased as the days went by. To see the joy, pride, confidence, and even the gratitude and relief written on the faces of all of those graduates the moment they received their diploma was a great privilege. Attending graduation ceremonies is one of the best ways to measure just how important the mission of the university is and the extraordinary opportunity we have in contributing to it.
Heading home after the final ceremony, exhausted and elated, I thought about the students who weren’t there, whose time at university ended unsuccessfully. It’s not surprising this thought came to mind: the issues of perseverance and success play a big part in university governance, not to mention the fact that we still have a long way to go before we can say that all those who wish to go to university have the best conditions to do so. There’s no need to go into the statistics here. The number of people who have their bachelor’s, master’s or PhD is growing in Quebec, but we still have some catching up to do. At the very least least, we can hope that those who are admitted to university get to don a cap and gown, like the thousands who did so these last few weeks.
The causes of failure are multiple and the battle must be waged on several fronts, such as financial aid, support for mental and physical health, francisation programs, improving writing skills and so on. Université de Montréal is hard at work on all of these factors.
What is the role of professors and lecturers in student success, above and beyond these institutional measures? I must admit that this has been nagging at me ever since someone used the expression “guillotine course” in conversation, something I’d never heard. It’s a graphic description of a reality that students know well: some courses have a very high failure rate and are an obstacle for anyone aspiring to complete their program of studies.
Should we be concerned, or pleased? On the one hand, the university is not a candy factory. It must be able to publicly attest to the competence and knowledge of those to whom it awards degrees. It is normal for the university to set benchmarks against which successes and failures are determined. On the other hand, achieving the targets set for a given program is not solely the responsibility of the learner. It is not enough to tell a person who is failing that they should have worked harder, while the guillotine hangs overhead. The quality, rigour and integrity of our programs are not incompatible with a culture of support, which calls for teachers to play a more active role in student success.
When I was dean, I received calls for help from people enrolled in a course given by one of my colleagues. Week after week, the professor in question would discuss obscure concepts from a complex perspective, drawing on a level of knowledge that was beyond the reach of his students. With a few exceptions, everyone in his class was totally lost. As for the professor, he didn’t care that hardly anyone understood the material. He even took a certain pride in it. He felt no obligation to offer intelligible teaching, no responsibility for this one-sided conversation that he continued to maintain. “It’s up to them to run faster to catch up to me,” he’d say. Still today, I’m deeply convinced that he was wrong.
No one is asking professors to spoon-feed their students. But there’s no point in adding to their anxiety by placing the bar so high it remains unattainable, no matter how hard they try to learn to jump.
Daniel Jutras
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