Far too many faculty members still think a challenging course should be like an obstacle race: You, as the instructor, set up the tasks and each student has to finish them (or not) to a certain standard and within a set time. If only a few students can do it, that means the course is rigorous.
We’re not in that camp. Lately we’ve been struck by recent conversations around rigor and grit and impostor syndrome. All three terms lay credit or blame on an individual when often it is the academic system that creates the constructs, and it’s the system we should be questioning when it erects barriers for students to surmount or makes them feel that they don’t belong. It’s time we recognize “rigor” for the exclusionary concept that it is and for the preferential practices it usually promotes.
But it’s not enough to eliminate a single word. To truly enact change you have to take concrete actions.
Faculty members can play an important role in countering outdated appeals to “rigor.” As instructors in humanities and science fields, respectively, we both encounter damaging ideas about the concept at workshops and even in casual conversations. For some instructors, abandoning “rigorous” policies and assignments means lowering standards and watering down courses. We hear comments like:
- From a humanities instructor: “I really want my students to engage in deep analysis and thinking. How can they do that if I just tell them what they have to do? Isn’t that doing the assignment for them?”
- From a STEM instructor: “That instructor has too many high grades on their exams; they are obviously not being rigorous enough. I am not here to hand-hold them, how will they fare in the real world if I don’t ask them to do it now?”
Such “rigorous” approaches privilege students who already have high academic literacy or who are already adept at managing higher education’s unofficial rules, routines, and structures — also known as the hidden curriculum. An emphasis on rigor doesn’t necessarily build academic literacy or unpack the hidden curriculum.
So how can we have high standards while also ensuring inclusive teaching practices? We have some ideas.
Build plenty of structure into assignments. Make sure each assignment clearly conveys your expectations. You can build structure by specifying the assignment’s genre, audience, and purpose. Here’s a sample writing assignment to illustrate what we mean:
- Imagine you’ve been selected to present your research to the mystery and detective fiction section of the 2021 Popular Culture Association meeting. Your conference paper will take up this question: How has detective fiction changed as it merges into new media? In approximately 3,000 words, make an argument about how the detective-fiction genre has changed (or not) as it crosses into new media. To support your argument, compare a traditional print text with one from a different medium (television, film, podcasts, computer games). You should cite at least two academic-journal articles that either support your claim or with which you disagree. We will work in class on finding appropriate sources using university databases. We will analyze sample conference papers and generate criteria for success in class.
In that assignment, students can clearly see what they will be writing, for whom, and for what purpose. The criteria for success become “What makes an effective conference paper?” not “What does this teacher want?” Students may be aware of different genres of writing from other courses, and this assignment builds on that awareness. It gives a sense of how writers in different fields use evidence, make arguments, and present information. Structuring an assignment around genre, audience, and purpose can work in any discipline.
Consider the different types of writing you do in your own work: literature reviews, conference posters, public presentations, grant proposals. Or, instead of instructor-driven assignments, invite students to be creative in showing what they’ve learned. For example, assign an “unessay” in which students develop their own assignment parameters, media, genre, and purposes (with peer and instructor guidance). Or ask students to create digital compositions like podcasts or videos. Regardless of the format, be sure to clarify the genre, purpose, and audience.
Showing students the process — the nuts and bolts of how to do the assignment — is not doing the work for them. In fact, you may well be asking students to do more, not less. In the detective-fiction example, you could build in low-stakes (ungraded or minimally graded) milestones based on the key steps required to complete the assignment. That might include:
- Develop a short-topic proposal based on course readings and exploration.
- Examine sample conference papers to better understand the genre.
- Create a chart that compares chosen works of detective fiction in two different forms or media.
- Locate and evaluate relevant scholarship using library databases.
- Write a draft.
- Workshop a draft with peers.
- Make a reverse outline and revise for structure.
Some instructors may worry that all of this “process work” will take up too much class time. But these activities can be completed before class, posted on a course message board, or discussed briefly in class. For instance, students can take five minutes at the start of class to share their topic proposals with a partner. You can also set up peer groups so that students can work collaboratively (in or out of class). Instructors can simply check off the work as complete or incomplete, or provide feedback at key points.
Develop a fair grading structure. Advocates of rigor often implicitly assume that the goal of a course is to rank students or “weed out” those who aren’t up to par. On their syllabi, you’ll see wording like, “students in the top 5 percent of the grading scale will earn an A.”
Ranking students prior to even assigning a grade is commonplace in many courses. In the instructor’s mind, that assures a certain percentage of students will earn top grades — safeguarding them against any perception that their course is not rigorous. In the students’ minds, such a policy implies that most of them won’t make the cut for an A. The message: This instructor does not see all students as capable of success and is intent on sorting those who can succeed from those who cannot.
Who is likely to do well in a course with that sort of grading policy?
Students who already do well on high-stakes tests, who have tutors, who’ve had test-preparation training, who have time to form a study group, or who are able to complete all the practice problems because they don’t have work or caregiving responsibilities.
Choose that type of grading scheme, and you communicate exclusion. As a byproduct of forcing the curve, you create a competition for the coveted top spots.
These approaches are just plain antiquated, too. Today, research is often conducted not by a lone genius in a laboratory or library, but by groups of scholars. Research is a team sport, and yet we continue to espouse notions of education that emphasize the individual and suggest that only certain people are worthy of becoming experts. This isn’t just a leaky pipeline where some inadvertently slip out; this is a systematic approach to constructing unnecessary obstacles in students’ paths. And for some, the obstacles are not simply nuisances to overcome but barriers that derail and dissuade them from pursuing a given discipline as a major or career.
Commit to inclusive teaching. There’s plenty of advice out there on how to be an inclusive teacher, including this detailed guide in The Chronicle (full disclosure: One of us co-wrote it).
Faculty members who support inclusive teaching should be prepared to counter arguments for “rigor.” After all, these discussions come up frequently not just in hallway conversations but in high-stakes debates about curricula, admissions, placement, dual credit, grading policies, and assessment. Here are some suggestions:
- Stop using the term “rigor.” Ask your colleagues to stop using it. If rigor is code for “some students deserve to be here, and some don’t,” then it needs to go. Emphasize that students who have been admitted to your institution have already shown that they can meet high standards. Explain why instructors should work with students to help them achieve learning goals.
- Incorporate frequent, low-stakes tasks to help students practice concepts and skills.
- Advocate course-design principles that provide clear course expectations.
- Share research that shows how inclusive teaching and active learning can improve student success and retention.
- Help your department or campus adopt policies that move away from grading on a curve.
- Offer research and advice on grading alternatives such as mastery-based grading and contract grading that help instructors maintain a challenging course while also helping every student meet the standards.
- Push against outdated notions of rigor personally and in the presence of others. Look for opportunities to intervene in institutional policies that seek to weed students out rather than invite them in.
By all means, design a course that helps students (either individually or in teams) master concepts and skills that you deem important in your course. Set high standards and help as many students as you can to meet them. Perhaps most important, start with the assumption that they are all capable of success and deserve to pursue the academic discipline of their choosing. Don’t “weed out” students. The way we see it, if we do our jobs right, perhaps our students will become as enamored with our disciplines as we are.
