Commentary

GTF You

They teach. Or at least they try. Well, some don't even try. Who are they? Graduate Teaching Fellows, commonly known as GTFs. And boy do they suck.

The pasty dweeb of a professor at the front of my class is trying in vain to lecture a few dozen students at the 300 level. Judging by his inability to make up answers to the questions posed, his general lack of teaching skill, and a tenuous grasp on the course material, I'd say this person isn't a day over fifteen. As I lose interest, stop taking notes and start reading a magazine, it strikes me: this is no professor at all, but merely another damn GTF staring blindly into the headlights.

"GTF" is campus vernacular for "Graduate Teaching Fellow." This title belies the job it represents, which is the illegitimate mongrel child of a lazy professor and an overworked teacher's assistant. Because professors have better things to do than teach classes, many have handed over the responsibility (or at least the grunt work of teaching and grading) to overburdened GTFs. Most GTFs are greatly unprepared for co-teaching a class or leading a discussion session in a topic that they are themselves still studying. A GTF is primarily a student in pursuit of a degree, just like everybody else, albeit with one or two extra years of a substandard public education under his or her belt. Being a GTF is a lot like being an intern: lots of work, no respect, little money, and lots of struggling to keep their incompetence under wraps.

Officially, professors are here to teach classes and add prestige to the university. They often do not teach discussion sections, conduct review sessions, grade papers or even hold office hours. In such situations, these essential course components are left to the somewhat qualified and multi-tasking GTFs, who end up doing the same work for a lot less pay.

This is as universal to the college experience as the beer bong: we pay a lot of money to attend college under the guise that we will be taught by learned professors who are masters in their respective fields, but we instead fall prey to the old bait-and-switch. Often a professor is to busy to actually teach, thanks to their research, book deals and commitments to out-of-state think tanks.

Thus, the GTF moves from the teacher's assistant-like duties of taking roll call and passing out papers, to delivering lectures they didn't know they had to give and conducting discussion sections. The problem is that GTFs are still in the process of mastering their field when professors pawn off their classes to them - basically the equivalent of asking a candy striper to punch out a knee surgery. In other words, the person in charge is flying blind and bring the rest of the class down in a fiery tailspin equalled only by JFK Jr.'s Cessna.

The idea of Graduate Teaching Fellows is not inherently bad, and it can be valuable practical experience for those who aspire to teach. A major flaw with the program, however, is that the standards determining who gets to be a GTF are inadequate, if not nonexistent. Basically, if you're a grad student, you are allowed (that is, forced) to be a GTF. Despite the fact that many GTFs end up flat-out teaching college-level courses, there doesnÍt appear to be a uniform set of hiring qualifications. It doesn't matter if a graduate has no interest in or ability to teach: all that matters is that they are a grad student. A pending Masters degree seems to be the only prerequisite.

The GTF evolved out of the teacher's assistant: primarily roll-takers and handout-distributors for gigantic core curriculum classes. Professors still taught discussions until universities became overcrowded, and until professors felt more pressure to establish their professional reputations and secure their tenure. To pick up the instructional slack, GTFs have had thrust upon them the duties previously reserved for those with actual doctorates. GTFs seem to be responsible for more and more aspects of a course. They can't help it if they're inept; they shouldn't be teaching in the first place.

Let it be said: there are a lot of really terrific GTFs at the University. For one thing, GTFs are frequently more accessible than are professors. The graduate who taught my Writing 121 class held us to a high standard and made me work unbelievably hard for a B minus. Ironically, she had no plans to teach anything ever again. It's interesting to note that Writing 121 isn't taught by full-fledged professors at all. Instead, GTFs from various departments teach it for the small honorarium that helps to offset the tremendous cost of graduate school. Of course, their dream of going to graduate school and spending all of their time studying to master an area of knowledge has been hijacked by the University, which has them working too hard at too many hours for too little pay.

Of course, if an inept GTF can teach the same class as a professor, that makes the two positions virtually interchangeable from the undergraduate perspective. If these GTFs are already educated enough to teach at the college level, why bother to continue their education at all? For that matter, why have professors at all when students are perfectly capable of teaching each other? If graduate students can competently educate their undergraduate peers, some of these professors might not be quite so esteemed and authoritative.

Then again, GTFs are typically still young, and can thus be just as immature and uninterested as many undergrads. Coupled with an especially preoccupied professor, this can create an utterly useless educational experience. For instance, my Visual Communication professor passed control over to her two GTFs, the first of whom, could not speak English. The second admitted to having never read the textbook. All three were completely ineffectual; the class was a consummate waste of time and money.

What made the GTF crisis all the more clear was James Fentress' Biopsychology course. Fentress was a guest professor who would often miss class, unbeknownst to the two GTFs, who would promptly patch together something to present in lecture. Fortunately, these two knew their stuff, though not as much as Fentress himself. Many basic questions were left unanswered or answered on an ad hoc basis. Fentress frequently left the GTFs to cover for him while he jetted off to psychology conferences. Many times, they had to jam a week's worth of lectures into a single hour of discussion, while at the same time writing tests, grading papers and somehow managing their own course load.

GTFs are also generally helpful. This is especially true for biology courses where classes tend to be very large and fairly difficult. Many science professors are here for their research first and to teach second, yet a few still take the teaching duties seriously. Their research is of utmost importance to them, and that's fine because the relationship between research and universities has long been clear. My real beef is with liberal arts and humanities professors who avoid teaching - they aren't doing research. At best, they're writing a book. Perhaps this is why being a college professor is such a plum job - you get paid for writing a book at your own pace, which ironically, 99 percent of America is already doing, although they aren't getting paid for it.

As of late, the most controversial flaw in the GTF program is the inability of more than a few to communicate fluently in English. International graduate students are subject to no more pre-employment scrutiny than are their English-speaking brethren during the GTF selection process. GTFs exist so as to be of help to students; when they cannot communicate verbally, they are more trouble than they are worth. Often, the focus of a foreign-GTF-led class shifts from learning, to merely trying to figure out just what it is being said. Still, it's not the fault of these particular GTFs; they are likely as frustrated by the language barrier as their students.

Using the aforementioned preoccupied professors as an example, the GTF crisis may find a solution via imitation. Since professors don't bother to show up or do the work they are supposedly here to do, then I also will not bother with my commitment to the university either - attending class, doing homework, learning. I too can pawn off my work on someone weaker than myself. In retaliation, I propose another position, with a whole new acronym to represent it: the ULF, or Undergraduate Learning Fellow.

It is almost contemptuous how professors blow off their students. Hiring a ULF is a way to return the favor. Basically, when I feel the need to do research (surfing the Internet for porn) or attend a conference (binge drinking in Canada), I'll just send my ULF to class in my place, armed with a vague outline of notes beyond his skill level. I will also make him do my homework and force him to mentally retain what I would have mentally retained had I actually gone to class. For this I will pay him ridiculously low wages, give him even less respect and make him perform other duties not listed in the job description, simply because I am just too busy writing my book. Finally, I will tell him that all of this is educational, and for his own good.

I just hope he speaks English.

Brian Boone, a senior majoring in Journalism, is an Associate Editor for the Oregon Commentator