Another goal is surely to make students who choose your course tell others that it was amazing, that you were terrific. One of your goals is to have the students who have to be there want to be there. You know that neither category guarantees an easy ride, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Either your course is a) required of everyone or maybe required in some specific track, or b) it’s an elective. Either they have to be there, or they want to be there. You remind yourself that your students are there for one of two reasons. You’re looking for their response, even before they’ve read a word of what you’ve set down. You distribute the handouts, making eye contact as you do it-everyone is so young, and the class is more diverse each time you steal a glance. You’ve brought with you a set of handouts, the ones you quickly say are also and always available online in the course learning module. The first day, the first class meeting, the noises, the competing interests of choosing seats and choosing neighbors, the geometry of students and backpacks, tools, food, books. What really is a syllabus? Is it a tool or a manifesto? A machine or a plan? What are its limits? Its horizon? And who is it really for? And what would happen if you took the syllabus as seriously as you take the most serious forms of writing in your own discipline?
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