What I Learned Teaching Texas A&M’s Freshmen

For millions of college freshmen, their first course isn’t calculus, U.S. history, or English composition—it’s effectively “Introduction to College.”

Indeed, more than 77 percent of universities surveyed by the National Resource Center for the First-Year Experience and Students in Transition offered some form of first-year experience (FYE) course, and 47 percent required all students to participate. In my home state of Texas, FYE programs are becoming increasingly popular. The University of Texas and Texas A&M University, for example, require FYEs for all students, while Texas Tech University and the University of Houston have requirements for particular majors, such as engineering or business. 

Ostensibly, these courses are meant to help freshmen make the academic leap from high school to college, and thereby improve student retention. They do this by teaching academic success strategies, such as note-taking or utilizing professors’ office hours, and informing students about the various resources and programs available to them on campus. FYE courses also seek to help students “belong” on campus, though what that really means is nebulous at best, and evidence that any of this really works is scant. 

But whatever merit FYE programs may have, they are not always well-designed. I saw that problem firsthand while teaching Texas A&M’s FYE course for two semesters. 

For 10 of the course’s 14 weeks, the curriculum was my own. I used this flexibility to buttress skills that my students’ high schools did not properly instill and to provide information about the university and the community they did not receive during orientation. More specifically, I provided instruction in essay writing (which my students desperately needed), taught them how to build an internship-ready resume, and sent them on scavenger hunts to major historical and community sites in the Brazos Valley to learn more about their home for the next four years. My students thought my material was helpful, and they said so in my course evaluations.

For the other four weeks, however, the FYE’s organizers sent pre-prepared slide decks that I was required to present. They covered Aggie Core Values, Wellness and Mental Health, Academic Success Strategies, and Goal Setting and Careers. The content in these presentations was juvenile to the point of being insulting and was wholly inappropriate for students whom we expect to think and act like adults.

The Core Values presentation was by far the least offensive. It assumed students were dumber than they are, but provided useful information about Aggie values and the virtues the university expects from students. Meanwhile, a major component of the Goal Setting presentation was a “My Dream Life” assignment with cutesy, cartoonish graphics, in which students were essentially asked to describe what they want to be when they grow up. The Academic Success module had similar flaws, as it told students that studying and time management are important with the help of crudely drawn stick-figure chickens. 

The worst offender, however, was the Wellness and Mental Health module, which had two primary activities. The first was a crossword puzzle, which generously provided a word bank with answer choices like “suicide,” “depression,” and “substance abuse disorder.” Because the organizers believed college students would not be able to fill in a blank for “suicide” by themselves, they were sure to carve out time for them to compare answers with a partner, as if this was a lesson that genuinely required group work. 

The second activity was a scavenger hunt—of the university’s TELUS app. Again, since students were apparently incapable of navigating an app by themselves, the module asked them to pair up or form small groups, and then comb through all the various links and support systems in order to complete the hunt. The organizers were sure to remind students to “use [their] best judgment when answering a question,” since the app might be a little confusing. (If the university’s support app requires group work to understand, then maybe it isn’t a very good app).

I am not intrinsically opposed to scavenger hunts—as I said before, I assigned one. But these activities did not make serious subjects more “relatable” or “engaging.” Instead, they communicated to students paying thousands of dollars for their education that the university doesn’t take them seriously. And this problem is not limited to Texas. Comb through any online message board, and you’ll find scores of students complaining that their FYE is busywork, demeaning, or a complete waste of their time. 

Students want to be treated like the adults they are. They want to know more about university resources. They want guidance on how to properly live independently. They want to know what the cheapest grocery store is, how to properly communicate with a professor, or where they can find the best sushi. They do not need or want cutesy graphics or vacuous crossword puzzles. 

FYEs require intentional design and a strong understanding of who students really are. They do not require the “how do you do, fellow kids” meme. A little less “engagement” and a little more usefulness would go a long way.

Garion “Gary” Frankel is editor at the James G. Martin Center for Academic Renewal.