You'll be a Disgrace to Your Family
About 10 years ago, I started doing something that has had a greater impact on the failure rate of my big courses than anything I’ve ever done. It’s very simple. After the first hour exam, I tell the class that anybody who failed it has to come in and see me. It is made clear that this is not optional, that dire consequences will result from failure to do it, and it is for their benefit. Needless to say, many of the affected students do not quite understand how the last bit could be so, therefore I explain to them that if they had a mole that suddenly started growing and changing color, that is a sign of a potentially fatal disease, and they would go to a doctor to see how to treat it. Failing a first exam is a sign of a potentially fatal academic disease, and their appointment with me is exactly like a doctor’s visit. I further tell the class that visitors should be prepared to discuss three things: a) Why they think they failed, b) their “action plan” of concrete steps-in writing-to be sure it doesn’t happen again, and c)what I can do to help them.
The appointments are scheduled for eight minutes, and as I might have to see 75 students, this is obviously not something that every instructor is going to be able to do, regardless of how effective it is. When the students come in, most are a little nervous, some defensive, and a handful belligerent. I have to do a kind of ”instant psychoanalysis”–students either need encouragement, concrete suggestions, or in some cases, a reaming out. I usually get it right, sometimes I get it wrong and feel dreadful because I made the situation worse, and every once in a while I hit the jackpot.
One day, a kid came in, and I quickly determined that the real reason he was failing was because he was having altogether too much fun as a freshman. Rhode Island being a place where everybody knows everybody, I recognized his family name as well-known Italian amateur winemakers in Westerly (I make wine, too--it's a multipurpose beverage. You can either drink it, or clean your fuel injectors with it.) So I ripped this kid up one side and down the other and told him that he would be a disgrace to his family name. His only reply was, “Jeez, that’s what my father said, too.” That out of the way, I made some concrete suggestions, and sent him on his way.
Well, he did squeak through with a C-, but then surprised me by asking me to be his advisor. After about a year, I discovered something. In “book-learnin’ ” courses, he was a washout, but he was a natural born genius in the laboratory. When he took my lab course, he disassembled all my equipment, and rebuilt it to work better. He did the same thing in his other labs. When he graduated, he had something like a 2.4, but with his rare constellation of skills, all I had to do was call some of the nearby biotech companies, and he had competing job offers.
He rapidly rose through one company, and after a couple of years, the company sent him back to school to get his M.S. He got it, returned to the company, and after a couple of years, he went back for a Ph.D. He’s almost finished now, and next year, I’m going to his wedding.
