Dear Dean Sidorkin, Sign me up for the revolution

Alexander Sidorkin is a decorated philosopher of education — and Dean of the Feinstein School of Education, Rhode Island College — who, like me, takes an ontological approach to his work. He is also a fantastic and serious doodler. His new, open access journal — Syllabi — publishes peer-reviewed syllabi. (The Chronicle of Higher Education has also published a story about it.)

In the first issue, his editorial introduction offers a sensible rationale and impassioned call to a pedagogical revolution of sorts. It is well-worth reading. I plan on reviewing and submitting some syllabi of my own.

On that note, here are few thoughts — and an implicit critique of the one-size-fits-all formatting at Syllabi — on my own approach to syllabus design:

“Boring, ugly, cluttered, self-indulgent. Typo. Are you kidding me? Just tell me what I need to do to get an Aish grade…”  This is what ran through my mind as a student, most of the time. Other times, I was excited and got through most of the syllabus without cynicism, but soon forgot it when the excitement wore off. Intimidating syllabi were cool in a weird way. I always lost them.

As a professor, I try to keep my experience as a student in mind in my syllabi composition. As a rule, I try remind myself to always consider my courses from the vantage point of the “asshole student,” the skeptic just waiting for the instructor to slip or make a false move. For me this is easy because I was, and in many ways still am, that student . But it’s easy to forget. Too easy. If I’m not careful, I’ll type an entire manifesto, testifying to the class’ — and my own — self-importance. “Delete” is the best key for syllabus writing.

Here’s one principle I try to follow: Layout and “look” matter the most.

The syllabus is, first and foremost, an object of art. Like a dish, a song, or a website: it must look, feel, and read beautifully. Proportion, font, spacing: everything matters. Even paper matters. (Even on digitized copies this cannot be ignored.) A good-looking syllabus is like any other craft: it requires editing, time, and hyper-critical love.

The prose of the syllabi is part of this too. I try to keep my syllabi sparse and work to make my prose match. There is a delicate balance between giving too much or too little information.

Also — and this is KEY — the voice of the syllabus is crucial. I tend to oscillate between extremely technical and extremely informal, vulgar even. A syllabus is not a place for extremes: it requires restraint and should not be BORING. My tone is usually careful, dry, and direct — ideally it comes off as surprisingly direct. British humor is a standard I try to emulate. It also sets the tone for the way I want my students to write.

Which reminds me: I should start writing my syllabi for my new courses at UND soon! When I finish, I’ll share them and let you see if I’m practicing what I just preached.