That First Day of Class: What to Do or Not to Do

For many faculty, every first day of class usually runs the same way. That is, they approach the first day with a routine in mind. A review of the syllabus and expectations for the class, an overview of the course material, maybe an ice breaker exercise or two (some people love these, others not so much), or an attempt to learn students’ names.

These perfunctory activities usually don’t take the whole class period, so the real start of the class begins in the second class. This is entirely defensible because the students are unlikely to have done any reading yet (unless an assignment was sent to them well before the first class meeting) and many students may not even have purchased the books for the class yet.

Other instructors see the first day of class as a clarifying moment: It’s make-or-break, so some strong or decisive beginning is needed. That is, some faculty members don’t want to waste the day with the trivial (i.e., syllabus, overview, etc.). Rather they want to impress upon the students the importance of course material and how best to approach it. This may mean a big lecture to start the semester or some sort of round-the-room discussion of what students expect from the class in terms of learning outcomes.

Some teachers enlist the help of the students to decide what topics will be covered during the semester and what sorts of assignments (e.g., papers) and assessments (e.g., quizzes, exams) will be required. This approach is labor-intensive but does invite students to take an especially active part in the unfolding of the class.

Some colleagues even spend the first class drawing up a sort of set of guidelines—a charter, if you will—for the class, wherein both students and the instructor agree to meet all sorts of expectations. If, for example, students agree to submit their written work on the designated due dates—come what may—then the course instructor, in turn, agrees to return the work with edits and suggestions and a grade with some dispatch (say, after a week and no more). The charter approach works well for some educators.

Over the years, I’ve tried various approaches to the “first day,” and what I’ve learned is that being flexible and reading the room is important. All classes have a dynamic—a feel, a quality, a way that students interact with one another—some “crackle” with energy, others are quiet and introspective. It isn’t the material or the students—it’s how the two interact that matters.

So, when I walk into a class and I can tell they are excited by the material, I review the aforementioned perfunctory stuff and then get down to business with some activity or at least a discussion. I may give a mini-lecture or I may ask students what they hope or expect to learn.

On other first days, the students may be subdued—this often happens in cold January and, to be sure, masks and COVID-19 fears haven’t helped matters. If their energy in the room is not there and I sense I can’t ignite it, I don’t fret. Instead, I review the usual and explain a little about what we are going to do and why, and then I let them go until the next class when we will indeed get down to business with the material.

There’s no shame in this approach; I don’t think I am “cheating” them nor do they seem disappointed. As the Japanese sometimes say, “One time, one meeting.” In other words, every encounter is “once in a lifetime.” There is no real right or wrong.