The Rollercoaster of Remediation
by Jennifer Block Bradner
YOU PARK YOUR car in the parking lot. You approach the ticket window. You purchase a ticket and enter the gates. You have arrived and the amusement park and all its trappings are yours for the enjoying. And then you see it. The sign that reads “You Must Be This Tall To Ride” and pictures a clown with his arm perched above a yard stick. You are not that tall even on you tiptoe toes. Your first reaction is dismay, followed by anger, and sadness and then, finally, understanding and acceptance. I believe this is much like what our students must experience upon finding out they require some sort of remediation prior to enrolling into a “college level” writing class.
The problems this issue uncovers are multifaceted, and only by beginning to unravel them can we come to understand our students’ reactions, and thus, their behavior in remedial classes. First, there is the issue of semantics; there is college-level and there is perceived college-level. Such perceptions run the gambit from what Harvard expects to what J. Sargeant Reynold’s Community College expects and everything above,
below, and in-between. If the students entering one’s college are not prepared for introductory level college coursework, then either the wrong students are being admitted, or what is considered college-level coursework is askew. That is, college faculty wish that our students came out of high school better prepared for the work expected of them. However, barring an overhaul of the secondary educational system, under-prepared high school students will continue to enter college. What college faculty can do is accept our students as they come, and make our classes, both in name and content, appropriate for them.
I am suggesting this in advance of noting that students are resentful when they are accepted to college only to be told that they need remedial, developmental or a “noncredit” classes. I hear students say in response to such course requirements: “Why did they let me in anyway?” “I know how to write.” “This isn’t fair.” “Why should I have to pay for and work in a class for which I won’t get credit?” My answer, which is generally the same, goes something like this. “You belong in college. You are smart; otherwise you would not be here. You just didn’t get everything you needed, for one reason or another, from your high school classes.” Then things get a little sticky. Why should they take a class and not get credit? Why should they work?
My thought is that we setting up our students for failure. Why not call it Math or English 101, 102 and 103? To us they are just numbers, so it makes little or no difference what numbers we assign these classes. But to our students, those numbers are signals. We could remove the stigma of “non-college level” by getting rid of those 001s. And forget the remedial, developmental, and college-prep tags. These students are in college, taking classes offered by the college; these are, therefore, college courses. And why not give credit, at least where it’s due. We want them to work more, not less in remedial and developmental courses. If it looks like a college class, and offers credit like a college class, and is treated by the administration and the faculty as a college class then, it must be a college class. And then we can expect “college” level work.
Students need these classes. More often than not, once students look at a syllabus, text and/or assignment for the class for which they are preparing they realize just how much they don’t know. You see, at least half of the battle in teaching developmental and remedial courses is instilling confidence in students who do not believe they are capable of this work — not only because they are not prepared, but also because someone along
the way has told them they are not. A teacher, a parent, themselves or even the very university in which they have enrolled has classified them as remedial or developmental students.
Obviously, colleges must offer developmental and remedial courses. But what we need are classes that do not offend our students either by title or content. Then we need to teach to the specific needs of our students. The goal is not only to get them to Freshman Composition, for instance, but also through it and onto other classes which will require them to write at “the college level.”
This problem has no quick fix. No amount of tutoring or “workshops” can replace a full semester of college-level writing, reading, math and science. This simple truth exposes yet another layer of this dilemma. Students don’t do enough thinking. I cannot play the piano. My mother paid for the lessons and I diligently attended. My name was printed on the recital program. But I never practiced. And so, I cannot play the piano. We can
expect all we want from our students. We can say “Well, they went to high school. They had good teachers. Their parents were very supportive. They got accepted into college.” But if they haven’t thought about the ideas to which they have been exposed, then they cannot be prepared to think in college.
As college faculty, we can mourn the lack of preparedness, the loss of time, the failures along the way, or we can ready the way for our students by accepting what is and facilitating what must be if they are to succeed in college.
Students’ attitudes toward remediation are directly proportional to how the course is classified. If the name, the content, even the office which handles it is part of a “special” program, students may feel stigmatized. But when such classes are integrated into the regular departmental curriculum, then students may be more apt to accept remediation. After all, remediation is necessary. It is not a punishment; it is a critical component
of undergraduate education in America. As educators, we need to present developmental education to our students as college-level coursework, and not as a kiddy ride.
