It’s been a fortnight since my last syllabus week, ever. I’ve endured my last soliloquies on not texting in class and not “starting this term paper the night before it’s due.”

Soon enough, I’ll be filling out my last round of course evaluations, darkening bubbles on a Scantron sheet of vague and unhelpful questions, and trying to find five words that best describe my professor like I’m making them a Match.com profile.

It’s not going to be fun. In fact, it’s going to be really boring and I’ll probably blow it off.

So, consider this column to be like one big general course evaluation now, while I possess the energy and inclination – a bit of friendly, constructive feedback. In my days at Syracuse University, these are some things I’ve noticed about professors that, well … bother me.

I must preface by saying being a professor must be pretty hard. A ton of papers to grade, innumerable unengaged students who grunt their way through a discussion, and trying to teach the same course again and again while remaining passionate. I could never do it, and to be frank, I’ve enjoyed most of my professors here.

But let’s critique anyway, shall we?

To begin at syllabus week itself: all of us students in your class, professor – we all got into college. Which is to say, we are all literate.

So, professor, when you pass out a syllabus, why do you read the entire thing to us?

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wasted 90 minutes listening to the Syracuse University Religious Observance Policy being read to me when I could have easily looked at it myself. Don’t worry, if I have a question about how not to go to class, I’ll be sure to inquire.

Reading the syllabus aloud is filler. We all know that, trust me. We’re the experts at stretching a six-and-a-half-page paper into an eight-page paper.

Which reminds me: a “maximum” word count on an essay is insane. I’ve never found myself thinking, “Damn, this essay on the French Revolution would sing if it were 1,500 words. I cannot shackle my genius to a mere 1,000 words. This bird needs to spread its wings and soar!” That has never happened.

And don’t get me started on the whole this-essay-should-be-as-long-as-it-needs-to-be cop-out. One of these days, I will actually write an essay in haiku format just to mess with you, instead of just joking about it.

Speaking of cop-outs – let’s ban the breaking-into-small-groups-and-discussing-the-reading stratagem. You know what doesn’t enhance my education at all? Trying to talk about a book with a guy who’s hungover, barely skimmed the Cliff Notes and apparently does not possess the power of speech. I’m not paying him to teach the class.

See, just as you expect us to be prepared for class – understandably, you emphasize this many, many times – it’s fair to expect the same of you, is it not?

That means you need to know how to use a computer.

If there’s a YouTube clip you want to show us, great! We love watching movies! But have it ready to go so we don’t have to sit in that long, awkward silence while watching your epic struggle with the cagey intricacies of Windows 8 before finally caving and asking the teaching assistant for help.

There, wasn’t that way more fun than the standard course evaluation? That’s what I call catharsis, right there.

Despite my few complaints, overall it has been a wonderful and memorable four years, and I’m grateful for all of the guidance and wisdom I’ve received along the way.

Oh, and don’t use Blackboard. Ever. Please. It’s awful. Just don’t.

Kevin Slack is a senior television, radio and film major. His column appears weekly. He can be reached at khslack@syr.edu and followed on Twitter @kevinhslack.

Published on January 29, 2013 at 1:05 am