Background Investigation of the Course
Most large classes have a history and none exist in a vacuum. Relatively few large courses originate de novo from their present instructors, and any introductory course that is a requirement for a major has probably existed since that major has been offered at your institution. Such courses are often prerequisites for more advanced courses, thus their content is tied to that of the higher-level courses. So, even before you start thinking about your course outline and syllabus, it is a good idea to get some idea of the traditions of the course, and its linkages with other parts of the curriculum. If you can, find out if someone else currently on campus has taught your course before and make arrangements to talk to them. For some strange reason, this is often not done by new instructors, but it is a valuable source of information. Previous instructors can give you much valuable information about problems, things that didn't seem to work, administrative hints, and so forth. Remember, however, that what you will be hearing is an interpretation of what the course was like, seen through the previous instructor's eyes. You will undoubtedly bring a different perspective, so it is the information, rather than the conclusions offered by the previous instructor that will be of greatest value to you. Talking to former students of the course can be interesting, but information from this source must be examined with great care, as students' impressions of a course and its instructor are so strongly colored by the students' learning styles.
I had a hard lesson in how important class tradition is when I taught my first big course at URI. It was a general education biology course that was required of every student in the university except biology majors. These were the days when it was thought that there were certain things that everyone with a college degree should know, therefore there were university-wide required courses. Needless to say, there were some reluctant campers in the class. My predecessor was an elderly gentleman, let 's call him Professor Todtkopf, who had been brought out of retirement from a distinguished research career to teach for a couple years until they found a suitable permanent teacher (there were faculty shortages in the late '60s, believe it or not). His lectures consisted of passages read aloud from the textbook, he had to be escorted to the stage in his enfeebled condition, and he gave exactly the same examinations every semester, confident (O, innocence!) that because he collected the examination question sheets after each exam, there was no need to go through the labor of preparing fresh exams each semester. Naturally, his non-voluntary students were delighted with his brand of pedagogy, and class averages improved each semester, undoubtedly due to ever-increasing study efforts by the students who were inspired by his lectures (and perhaps a well-developed fraternity exam file system).
Of course, with the arrogance of callow youth, I didn't bother to check any of this beforehand. Coming fresh from a post-doc at the highly-selective University of Washington, where I had assisted in a major's course, I naturally assumed that my new students wanted a rigorous, up-to-date biology course, and would be inspired by my enthusiasm. After the first examination, I had a rude awakening. The students were shocked to their very core that there were fresh examination questions that they didn't already have in their files. “Why, why, that's not FAIR!” they protested. They actually got together and sent a petition to the department chair demanding that something be done about it (this was at the height of the Student Power movement). The class, the chair, and I eventually came to a rapprochement, but it took a couple of years to shake off the toxic dust left by Professor Todtkopf---.
