Students often gripe about large classes, but they provide a valuable life lesson, says our fourth-year correspondent
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One of the biggest complaints among students at U of T – and I suspect this is a common grievance among students at most Canadian universities – is that the classes are too big. At U of T, many 100-level courses hold several hundred students; 200-level courses top out around 150. Not until you reach 300-level and 400-level do classes max out at 50.
But until one attains these latter plateaus, the gripe of class sizes is often used, by undergraduates at least, as a common reason for poor grades. I disregard this reasoning. For one, this is university, not high school, and large classes are to be expected. Do we not forgo individual coddling when we walk underneath the Latin-inscribed arches of Victoria College, or through the hallowed halls of University College?
If adulthood is the final level of independence, then shouldn’t university act as the transition period? And if that is the case, then certainly large classes provide a means for students to prepare for life “on the outside”: one is anonymous in the lecture hall, but one still has access to tutorials where “academic service” is more personalized.
Optimism, dreams, hopes and aspirations aside, the stark reality of life after university is one of mostly anonymity. When starting a new job, one can’t expect to receive an incredible amount of attention. One could argue that entry-level, or middle positions in companies can be viewed as the 100- and 200-level courses of the business world. Students must be prepared for this, and large classes train them in the principles of independence. Success in these positions, much like success in those huge lectures at Con-Hall, allow a progression into 300- and 400-level courses, effectively the management positions of companies which then are more personal, and can focus on the individual name opposed to employee number. But this isn’t to say university prepares students to become only anonymous cogs in the workforce machine. But nonetheless, large classes teach one thing that is paramount to the growth of every young adult: independence, whether it be in the office or at home.
On top of this, one often hears the complaint, especially from the U of T Students’ Union, that tuition fees are too high. If they are already as astronomical as some profess, what would be the outcome of smaller classes at the first- and second-year levels? The university would have to hire more professors, and with more professors on the payroll, this would cause an increase in costs for the university.
My generation seems to like the idea that the universe revolves around them. Most of us subscribe to this notion – even I do sometimes – though I would never admit it in public. This feeling of entitlement is detrimental, and rather than be fostered, should be fought against. Large class sizes to do this: if students can work amongst the faceless hundreds, and do their work well, then they deserve to be taken care of more personally in future classes. In a sense, large lecture sizes act as a filter, or quality control. While the thought may sound callous to some, it’s not the university’s job to simply give students what they want; it’s to give them the means to get what they want. Post-secondary education is a game of give and take, and at an internationally ranked school such as U of T, it should come as no surprise that there may seem to be a bit more take than give during first and second year. This is done in order to teach students what cannot be learned from textbooks: how to be independent. If anything, students should applaud big classes. After all, they turn U of T from being a school that teaches a lot of theory, to a school that also teaches valuable, practical life lessons.
Reader Comments
Wow, I have never thought of first-year classes like that: acting as a filter for those who are truly interested in the subject. In my own experience, large classes actually helped me choose my major. With large classes, more general material that is taught, and this helps you narrow down to what you really want to learn. In large classes, you can talk to the students around you, form study groups — and you may just make some new friends along the way.
So how much did they pay you to write this?
The author of this article seems to take a Darwinian view, in which university is a sink or swim environment. The “strong” climb to the top and the so called “weak” get filtered out by the system because they couldn’t acquire what the university defines as valuable. Someone who aspires to being a corporate drone — to make a decent living (ie lots of money) without having to do a whole lot of deep critical thinking — would have no qualms with a university being impersonal and distant.
The course material that is taught at U of T in first-year biology or engineering is more or less the same as the material taught at Queen’s University, the University of Victoria, and even Harvard University and University College in London. But the student experience is better when he or she is actively engaged in a class where the professor knows how individual students are progressing, and teaches accordingly (versus being put into a large impersonal auditorium where the transfer of information is one-way and the person delivering the information is on a screen).
One cannot argue that there isn’t a difference in education here. I’m sure the university would like to engage students in small classes but large lectures are just more efficient and convenient for them.
Is it because of U of T’s “great international reputation” that students shouldn’t hope for more than a corporate, one-dimensional education structure for our first two years of university?
I don’t necessarily agree with the author in their notion that U of T’s stance is to weed out and push aside, but I also don’t agree with Peter’s idea that it’s all cold and impersonal. It’s been my experience that courses can be a bit large at U of T, but you have to remember that it’s a university working on the notion of “accessible education, and research” first. Large classes are symptomatic of universities that have large demands, and somewhat low income. U of T competes and does extremely well on the international scene. Some of my first-year courses were large. But generally the profs and TAs for these courses were good. In second year, class sizes got smaller. Third year again.
I don’t think the author is trying to say that people are going to be shucked aside as soon as they start getting into a rough spot. There are so many campus programs designed to help with this, you just have to put your hand out for help. What I think he’s trying to get at is that in your degree-requirement courses you can expect to be in a larger class, because everyone is going to need to get the credit, and most of the more hands-on learning and questions can be handled in office hours, discussion boards and tutorials. For courses that aren’t required, you get a more personalized feel with the prof. You can ask questions, spend a bit more time, etc. I don’t think there’s a single program at U of T that has you in multi-hundred-person classes the entire way through.
Although it’s true that many classes at U of T are large, that’s not the case for all classes. In the two years that I’ve been here, I’ve only had three such classes. Of course, that’s not the case for everyone, and I have found that large classes can teach you responsibility and independence, but even in large classes, there is always help provided to understand the material. It is university, so you are expected to study on your own to fully understand the material.
Labs and tutorials are very helpful and my TAs have always been willing to answer questions over email or during their office hours. The same goes for professors, though they are understandable busier. There are also other resources you can turn to: language workshops and math aid and writing centres. Bigger classes can be frustrating, but they don’t necessarily mean that you won’t get the help you need to succeed.
Is this a satire?
It’s so great to see U of T administration’s own media organ print a story that so mindlessly opposes the principled stands being taken by actors such as UTSU in favor of quality and accessibility of education. Huge classes make it hard to connect with profs and engage in meaningful exchange and learning? Noooo… you just need to grow up! And what, you think tuition fees are being managed in a way that excludes the most marginalized students? You just don’t understand that the university has bigger priorities, like appropriating our resources for massive investments in flagship priorities like the Munk School, decided in secret without consultation. Welcome to U of T, a school being sold off in blocks to the highest corporate bidders, where students interested in excellence in education and research had better tow the neoliberal line if they want to join the officially-sanctioned ‘conversation’.
You don’t need to pay thousands and go to U of T for large classes. Anyone can offer textbook regurge multiple-choice-style courses.
This is a horrible analogy. I think that doing a sloppy job at admitting undergraduate students, because the university wants to maximize revenue from entering students, and then doing this “filtration” is just a way of saying: we rob you of two years of tuition and self-esteem, and then if you’re lucky, you might be admitted to these upper-year courses, or end up indebted to our university or the lovely OSAP system. I think it’s absolutely horrible to create a survival game, and select the “fittest” students who can flourish in such a horrible learning environment. We are in fact asking people to expect the least, when they are taught by the same generation who enjoyed the leverage of subsidized education and small class sizes, and — needless to say — incredibly low tuition fees.
Sounds like hypocrisy to me..
So to sum up: Come to U of T, where by 4th year you’ll be convinced you never deserved a quality education in the first place. Small classes are for entitled chumps!
This is just weird.
There is a term for nonsense like this that you learn in your 500+ student history courses: social darwinism. My grandfather got a great education working in the coal mines at age 12. Maybe the U of T administration should see if there are some active mines around they could use for classrooms. Students could pay their tuition in coal! May the best survive. Love the “article.”
This is a joke, right? Right? No one actually thinks this is a real article, right?
I have to say, this piece is terrible, even as propaganda pieces go. And I do research on Soviet propaganda magazines. How embarrassing for U of T.
Trying to correct the facts in a propaganda piece is always a loser’s game, since propaganda is by its very nature uninterested in factual correctness. But I can’t resist correcting the grossly untrue opening paragraph. Since when do courses “top out” at 150 in second year and at 50 in third and fourth years? In every department I’ve seen, courses in excess of 150 continue in pretty much every year.
Hm. How many courses did I take where the professors repeatedly invited students to see them during office hours, because they were more or less sitting there alone (except during crunch time when people panicked and realized, oh crap, I have a professor!)? Pretty much all of them.
@Andrei: If we can use the “according to what I’ve personally seen” argument, can I say that more or less every one of my third-year classes were less than 50 people? Maybe art history and classics don’t count as departments.
Nice to see U of T’s ridiculously huge classes are churning out writers who don’t feel the need to support their opinions with little things like research, evidence or facts.
U of T, you should be ashamed of putting your name on this drivel.
They’re also churning out writers who begin two consecutive sentences with “But.” Also, not even a wink to accompany a gem like this: “Most of us subscribe to this notion – even I do sometimes – though I would never admit it in public.”
If this isn’t propaganda, it’s a depressing and utterly inaccurate worldview of the possibilities of what a college education (and a career after college) can be. But if you keep believing this is all the world can be, I’m sure you’ll do a good job making it real.