The Struggle Against Apathy

After four years of teaching AP Psychology I finally felt comfortable with the material.

I had taken ZERO Psych courses in high school or college during my time as a History major, when I was first hired in the Social Studies Department. But going into my fifth year I had it down to a science: lecture, activity, quiz, test, reflection.

Different cohorts and classes adapted to my teaching model in different ways: some were quiet and attentive, some were boisterous and loud while asking great questions to sharpen their understanding, with all variations in between. I could combat (I believed) behavioral issues, because deep down students in my AP classes were there because they wanted to be there, and they wanted to succeed academically. My school does not restrict access to AP classes, so any student who shows up in my room has chosen to be there, and should therefore, have some skin in the game, right?

I was so naive.

This year I began as always, setting high expectations and following my script…..and was stopped dead in my tracks. One of my sections lagged far behind the others, both in assessment scores and overall classroom culture. They would sit and take notes, just like they had been trained their entire careers, they would do their homework assignments out of the textbook, I would let them use notes and homework on their quizzes, and still? Overwhelmingly their quiz and test scores communicated to me that they were not mastering the content.

We tried re-testing, more review sessions, Crash Course videos, extra credit for doing homework…and still class averages were in the D range. I was at a loss for an explanation. I have to admit: this was a huge blow to my ego.

What was I doing wrong? What could I be doing differently? Was I not working hard enough to ensure their success?

This had to be all my fault because my formula had worked so well for so long. For the first time since grad school I experience the often described “imposter-syndrome”. What was I doing in front of these students? Was I hurting them? Should I be stepping aside to ensure they receive quality instruction from someone more qualified? Even after four years of teaching, this cohort was leading me to sleepless nights and a questioning of my career choices.

I began to look at more anecdotal evidence than just relying on hard, cold, testing data and asking “did you study”? I watched the students in social situations and began asking different questions: “how long did you spend studying for this”, “how do you study”, and “what is your course load like”?

And the answers to these questions were upsetting to say the least.

This group of students admitted to having no study skills. Their previous experiences in school had relied mostly on the lower levels of Bloom’s which only required remembering and regurgitating information verbatim, and questions that asked them to contextualize, or analyze were so difficult they were more likely to just guess than grapple with the difficult information. Many of them never had to study in previous classes, so they now chose not to and were not afraid to admit it, often times boasting about it.

One girl directly told me “I’ve never studied for anything, and I don’t intend to.”

Why start now, when it had never been a priority before? Many admitted that they wanted to care, but their online or social lives were just so much more pressing, and stole their time from them without them noticing. Some confessed to copying each other’s homework because they did not want to study, but deserved the “A” for completion. Others replied that my class was only an elective, so it was on the bottom of their list of priorities after their English and Math classes. I demanded too much and my class was too hard, so they decided to check out of it.

A culture of apathy had evolved in this group and I had been foolishly blind to it behind the safety of my well-laid plans.

At the end of the year I asked them what would they recommend that I change in my class; what in their opinion would have helped them in retrospect? The answers that I received were astonishing. These students who struggled the most, in an anonymous survey wanted what they claimed to despise: structure. The students who had told me that my content was too difficult, so much so that they’d rather give up suggested more accountability for themselves: make us do notecards, grade our notebooks and our lecture notes for completion, have us do more class projects, make tests count for less of our grade. Advanced Placement classes are supposed to simulate a college course, and that is usually what attracts students to the course.

But my students were telling me that was not working for them.

As I sit cleaning up my desk for the summer, I am thankful for their candor. Their honesty, even after a tough year, I can respect. However, even with this honest evaluation of my course, I am still unsure of how to proceed with this information. I firmly still believe that AP classes are supposed to teach students both college-level content and college-level skills; they should be difficult and students should struggle with these big ideas and changes. But do these students have a point? Do they need more oversight, even as juniors and seniors? Is changing my very self-directed structure of the class taking away from its college-oriented goals? Is this the only way to fight apathy amongst AP students to make sure they succeed?

I am not sure if I will change anything about my classes come next year. I am not convinced that more structure is what is best for AP students. But I haven’t ruled it out quite yet. This question of personal accountability is something I will be grappling with this summer. How much personal accountability is reasonable for our students? How much is too much and are we harming them? Or is this a case of tough love that is necessary in the developmental process?

I’m still not sure, but I’m open to discussion (and maybe a change in my previously “flawless” plans).