I noticed all semester that one of my Fall classes was very special. It is not that I never encounter outstanding students or teach classes that are great; both are common. But the fact is, in 20 years of university teaching, the number of classes that stand out as truly extraordinary is small.

At the end of the semester, during the grade slog made more hectic than usual because of an unrealistic turn around time that the university imposed, I listened to their final vlog assignment. The deadline was looming ominously; I was working feverishly to not miss it. Then I played their recordings, one after another, about what they had learned. I had to pause to take it all in. 

 

Fifteen years ago, during Spring 2006, I taught a class where hand-written journal entries in a notebook were assigned. Technology advocates could choose to use a word processor for composing instead, but either way, it was handed in as paper. The tenth vlog in my Fall 2020 class evoked a clear and very gratifying memory of the last entry in those paper journals thirty semesters ago. It was so strong I could remember the room, the number of students, even some of their faces and where they sat. I recall that when I reflected on that class afterwards, I thought maybe its vibe had been at least partially caused by the time slot (2:45-4:05). I had always taught earlier and wondered whether lunch time hunger was normally a distraction. 

 

I suspect some of what drove the class this Fall to sparkle is that one-third of the students had taken one or more of my classes in the past, and that cohort of Dr. G fans had significant impact on class aura. However, there were also excellent class members who I did not know before this semester. The topic, the setting, the time slot, the delivery method, the pandemic, were all different from 2006. And yet the outcome in terms of student and faculty takeaway was similar. When this happens, I so appreciate the gift. As soon as I submitted grades (and slept LOL), I wrote a thank you note to the class.