KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCKIN' AT FACULTY'S DOOR

Why It’s Difficult

By Beth Lew

Fall freshman year I went to an instructor’s office hours only once. The class was large—nearly 250 students—and the professor was a senior bigwig who had been at the university so long my mother could have taken a class from him. His high status prevented students from simply strolling into his office; you had to set up an appointment with his secretary a week in advance.

I never did make an appointment.

At first, I thought everything was going well in the class. My grade would be based entirely on papers—five of them—and papers were my strong suit. I could see no reason to visit my T.A. or my professor if I wasn’t having a problem; it would be like going to see the vice principal in high school just for a friendly chat.

Then one of my papers came back with a poor grade and the T.A.’s comment: “This paper has no thesis.” I was shocked; she was accusing me of omitting the most basic building block of an essay.

At first I ignored it. “Must be a fluke,” I thought. But after the second paper received a poor grade and the same comment, I consulted with my mom, who once taught college English. She didn’t understand the grade and urged me to speak out. After the third paper, I knew continuing to write and pray was no longer an option.

I remember hovering outside the professor’s office. But the office door was guarded by a wooden reception desk and gray-haired secretary. How could I, a measly freshman, take the time of a renowned professor, not only interrupting his work but also questioning his T.A.’s grading?

I stood in the hallway trying to convince myself that he was someone’s dad, someone’s grandfather—not larger than life. But it was no use. So I decided not to make an appointment and turned to someone a little less intimidating.

I crept down to the basement of the department to see the T.A.

I remember nothing of our discussion. I do remember the dim lighting of the room and the quickened pace of my heartbeat. She treated me like a beginning, struggling writer, and I began to believe I was one.

My grades did not rise when I turned in my last two papers. And I did not go back to argue.

But I had made a first step. Never again would it be so hard to walk to the office door and knock. I vowed to visit my next set of professors before I had a problem, not wait until my self-confidence was diminished by a poor grade.

Now I am in my third year. I never became one of those students who could casually visit a professor during the first week of class simply to introduce themselves. But I did learn to visit professors or T.A.s before I wrote papers and sometimes before a test.

I grit my teeth when I meet a professor who uses office hours as yet another podium to lecture from, not a place for friendly conversation. I pale when a professor answers all of my questions with a rejoining query, “What do you think?”

But I keep coming back.

I quickly learned that meeting with my professors improves my grades. I learn their philosophies, preferences and pet peeves; they learn to view me as a person, not a name on a blue book.

More important, I find that professors’ excitement about their field can be contagious, their probing questions can lead to insight and their smile of approval can make my day.

So I navigate the maze that is the humanities building. I knock on the closed door. I shake hands with the big shot of the department. I pull up a seat.

I’m here to learn.

How to Do It

By Marion Franck

Sometimes one of my daughter’s personal struggles (“I just can’t go to the office hours of that scary guy!”) reminds me of something from my own experience.

In this case, as she pictures the forbidding door from the outside, I picture it from the inside, from the years when I was a college lecturer, holding office hours that, too often, were silent and lonely.
I have come to believe that fear of visiting faculty is an under-recognized problem that prevents students from getting all they can out of college.

To understand student reticence and gather helpful advice, I decided to relive Beth’s experience by interviewing a faculty member who could raise my own personal goose bumps—someone astute, literate and renowned.

Dean Simonton, professor of psychology at UC Davis, emerged as the perfect choice. Not only does he have his Ph.D. from Harvard and numerous teaching awards from UC Davis, but he is also tops in a field that reminds people of their inadequacies: His specialty is “genius, creativity and leadership.”

I practiced my lines before I phoned him, was glad he was out and switched to e-mail with a sigh of relief.

Eventually, though, I had to walk into his office, and that’s when I discovered I had things all wrong. Simonton is a determined, productive scholar, but he likes students.

In fact, his desire to attract them during office hours was practically visible, like a trail of candy. He wears colorful T-shirts, leaves his door wide open and offers a big comfy couch. His walls dance with children’s artwork, music plays in the background, and the tome that dominates his bookshelf is Psychology for Dummies.

His behavior isn’t typical, but neither is it rare. Yet the number of students in his classes who visit him, about 20–30 percent, is lower than he wants, and he wonders if they’ve been burned by less-friendly teachers.

He is also struck by the makeup of his visitors. “You get the best students and the worst. The best come because they want to get an A. The people on the lower end come because they’re having problems. But people who are in the middle, the B and C students, you hardly ever see.”

Most of us are parents of those middle students. What can we do to encourage them to visit a professor and reap the rewards, such as help with papers and tests, letters of recommendation and maybe even a mentoring relationship?

Here are some ideas for students:

• Plan ahead. Go to office hours a week before the paper is due, not the day before.

• If a friend in the class has similar questions, visit together.

• If you’re disputing a grade, be respectful (“maybe even a little submissive,” jokes Simonton).

• Bring questions. Nothing pleases Simonton more than the well-prepared student. “I love it when students come in and say, ‘I have six questions to ask you about the paper.’ And they go bang, bang, bang, and you almost feel like, ‘Why don’t you stay awhile? You’re organized!’”

• Remember: Your visit is not an imposition. From their earliest training, professors know that office hours are part of their job. In fact, few professors prefer slapping grades on anonymous papers to meeting with young people who want to learn.

Simonton doesn’t begrudge his time; he wants to give it. “I’m not a physician who leaves the moment he’s done with you, who won’t even talk about the weather for one second.” He leans forward and exclaims, “I’m a teacher!”

It doesn’t take a genius to hear the eagerness in his voice.

Beth Lew, a college junior, and Marion Franck are a mother-daughter pair of writers from Davis.