Let’s talk about our class.
This will be a genuine college class. That means, among other things, that I will
expect you to take responsibility for yourself in the course. If you have a question about the syllabus, or
about assignments, etc., try to figure out the answer for yourself, or ask
another student in the class, before you ask me. If you ask me, and my correct answer is: “It is in the syllabus” or “Re-read the
directions”, you will sink in my estimation.
This does not mean that I am not willing to help; it means rather that I help those who help themselves.
I will not accept late assignments, except upon proof of a
University-approved excuse. That proof
must be provided, in an acceptable form, on the next day that the student
returns to class. Any proof presented
later than that, unless I have explicitly approved it, will no longer count.
As you no doubt realize—at least sometimes—the primary
reason why students want or need to turn in late work is not actually illness,
it is procrastination. So, plan
ahead. Do not put yourself in position
to be submitting your paper (on Canvas) scant minutes before it is due. Canvas glitches; computers fail. Be ready to submit the assignment early
enough that you can still meet the deadline even if Canvas stalls, even if your
hard drive gives up the ghost or even if the lights go out in the Library. I will open assignments early enough for this
to be easy to do.
You become an adult by
acting like an adult and by being treated like one.
I expect steady, engaged work on your part—outside of
class. To work at the level I expect,
you will need to put in ten hours or so a week outside of class, reading and
writing. My lectures will not assume
that you understand everything you read, but they will assume that you have
made a real effort to understand. In
particular, I will expect you to have gotten familiar with each text, to know
the basic structure of it and to find passages in it quickly. I will expect you to know the text’s title,
section headings, etc. For example, I
will expect you to know the various speakers in Platonic dialogues, to be able
to spell their names, to know the facts about them, if any, that Plato (or the
editor) supplies, to know where the dialogue takes place (e.g., the
Agora).
There is no substitute
for faithful daily work throughout the term.
But more than doing the reading, you must make time to
reflect on it. Doing the reading in a
philosophy course means doing the philosophy that is on the page. You cannot read a page of philosophy as you
do a page of the newspaper (to find out what happened, to get the news, collect
some information). A page of philosophy
is more like a workout video. It is not
simply to be watched (i.e., read) but to be enacted, imitated, performed. You follow along, concurrently doing the
exercises as well as you can. You
cannot, in other words, just read about what Plato thought; you must (try to)
think his thoughts. To do this, you must
read with pen or pencil in hand, asking yourself questions and trying to answer
them, noting things you do not understand.
And then you need to shut the book, give yourself a little time away
from it, and then, without consulting the book, think your way through what you
read. Work to make the text come alive
in you.
Philosophy is not
information, and it cannot be learnt as information is learnt.
I expect participation in class. Speak up.
Take part. Ask questions. Just as you cannot simply read a page of
philosophy and understand, you cannot just listen to a lecture and
understand. You must interact with
me. (And with each other.) Class should be a living, even if limping,
Platonic dialogue. Do not fear being
mistaken. Do not fear looking
stupid. Philosophy makes fools of us
all—and fairly regularly. I will have my
bad days. Show some passion, risk
something: talk.
