Dear Professor: Emailing in The Academy

When you think of college writing, what genres come to mind? Essays? Lab Reports? Proposals? Whatever popped into your head, it probably wasn't email. That's unfortunate because emails are one of the most commonly used forms of writing in the academy (and beyond). Most studies on the subject focus on emails in the corporate world (where workers spend a whopping 28% of their work time managing emails), but a quick, wholly non-scientific survey of my own inbox shows that I wrote 41 school-related emails last week.

Unfortunately, few students learn how to craft an appropriate email--even though lots of students could stand a lesson in netiquette (a blog post on the subject by EIU English professor Dr. Michael Leddy has drawn more than 400,000 readers from Azerbaijan to Zimbabwe!).

I have my own thoughts about how to email professors (don't use emoticons. because: obvious), but I thought I'd ask a few experts. To that end, I chatted with Dr. Tim Taylor, Associate Professor of English and Director of Composition at EIU, Dr. Sandra E. Weissinger, Assistant Professor of Sociology at Southern Illinois University Edwardsville and  Dr. Natalie T. J. Tindall, Associate Professor and Co-Graduate Director in the Department of Communication at Georgia State University (whose twitter feed, incidentally, is all types of interesting). Here's some of their advice:

Use appropriate titles.

Many professors bemoan the epic of informality among today's students. All three of the academics I interviewed touched on this issue: Dr. Weissinger included "when students misspell my name or call me 'Miss', 'Ms.' or 'Mrs.'" on her list of top 3 email pet peeves; Dr. Tindall explained that she asks for the "extra formality" of being called Professor or Doctor because she is not much older than many of her students; Dr. Taylor's email policy, which he includes with his syllabus and course policy for all courses he teaches, asks that all messages begin with a formal address.

OMFG, y'all. Stop with the textspeak. Ur teacherz don't LOL.

There is a tendency for students to include casual internet abbreviations in messages to teachers. Perhaps it's rooted in the same informality that leads students to write emails without a formal address or salutation or maybe it's, as Dr. Taylor argues, related to the tendency of some people to "think of email as the same as texting their friends." Either way, it's a problem. Dr. Tindall's advice? "Emails are professional communication tools, and you should spell out everything you write." Kthnxbai.

And while you're at it, check your address.

Your email address reflects on your image as a student (arguably a type of semi-professional), so be sure to keep that in mind when you communicate with professors. I mean, do you really think your comm teacher is going to seriously consider a request for extra credit when it comes from bigbootyjudy35@hotmail.com (Dr. Tindall's example, not mine)? Dr. Leddy explains that using your university email, in addition to ensuring the expected amount of professionalism, "immediately lets your professor see that your email is legitimate and not spam."

Be specific!

All three of the professors I interviewed also noted that they expect students' emails to provide all the specific information that is necessary for the message to be read, understood and, if appropriate, responded to. This means wisely using the subject line and giving your full name, course number and section and, if applicable, the name or page numbers of any assignment or reading you're asking about. This isn't just about etiquette; it's about efficiency. As Dr. Weissinger explained "I have many students. So, when students do not note which class their email concerns (in combination with non-specific questions), I am lost - and often do not have time to figure out what class they are in, as I am often five minutes ahead of my students in terms of class preps and grading."

And while you're crafting that specific question, stop for a minute to decide if you need to ask it at all. As a TA for a first-year writing course this semester, I've become pretty salty about how many emails I get asking me questions that students should be able to answer on their own (when's the assignment due? How 'bout you look at the schedule posted on D2L... on the internet... that you're using right now to send me this email). And for the record, I'm not the only teacher who doesn't want to answer these types of questions; Dr. Weissinger included when students ask "a question that is answered in class documents (for example, the syllabus)" as her #1 pet peeve.

Keep it simple, stupid.

The best emails are short and to the point. "Emails are more inviting and easier to read when they are 'chunked,' meaning that in an online platform, strong communication is likely to have shorter paragraphs than academic essays," Dr. Taylor explains. "The medium affects the arrangement and form of the message." Dr. Tindall, who follows this website's advice for 90% of the emails she writes, agrees: "I hate long emails. HATE THEM." If a longer message is absolutely necessary, Tindall recommends using white space and bullets as tools for chunking.

The pudding's in the proofing.

As with any good writing, emails require proofreading. Consistently incorrect spelling and punctuation make messages harder to read--and can make readers quite cross. Save yourself (and your audience) some frustration and give your words a quick once-over before pressing send.


Feeling a little overwhelmed? Don't worry. More responsibly using electronic communication, while it might appear daunting at first, doesn't really take all that much work. Plus, it adds to your own efficiency. Including course numbers in your subject lines, for example, makes searching your own inbox much easier. And there's the bonus of knowing that your professors will be better able to answer whatever questions you have (and in a better mood when they do) if your messages are clear and concise. And don't feel like you're alone; Dr. Leddy and each of the professors I spoke with all pointed out that, just like their students, they work to follow their own advice.

It's a jungle out there; write accordingly.

Getting Write to the Point

I lament the days of creative intros. The love that resides inside of me for a good analogy or an interesting personal narrative experience in an introduction is immense.

It seems that introductions such as these have gone by the wayside.

When I sit down to write a paper, I now get right to the point all the while sitting there thinking, "Shoot. I've sold my soul. This is boring." I used to be all about those fun and flowery introductions.

For a long time, I thought that the difference between story-like introductions and scholarly "get right to it" introductions was simply writing experience. There is some truth in that because much of my early writing generally started with either an analogy or humorous bit to grab my reader's attention. I honestly did not know how to start a piece of writing any other way.

But after two years of  Graduate school, I reckon I've changed. 

My writing now gets right to the point even though I tried to meander a bit in the opening of this post.

This tendency has caused me to wonder if this is a sign of writing experience or perhaps a sign of the times.

Yes, people do seek to be entertained (almost all of the time) as if we are terribly afraid of being bored. Yet, when it comes to reading audiences want to get to the important information first. Perhaps people want to form an opinion as quickly as possible or to simply get that need-to-know information. I'm not sure.

Could it be that the most important information is what entertains us the most?

I figure that we as people have forgotten how to wait and also how to converse (in writing and speech).

We have gotten used to the 24/7 hustle and bustle. We want what we want when we want it.

We argue that we don't have time for many things and so lengthy conversations have started to disappear, replaced by character limited tweets and status updates.

In her article "The Flight From Conversation" Sherry Turkle writes, "We are tempted to think that our little 'sips' of online connection add up to a big gulp of real conversation. But they don’t. E-mail, Twitter, Facebook, all of these have their places — in politics, commerce, romance and friendship. But no matter how valuable, they do not substitute for conversation. Connecting in sips may work for gathering discrete bits of information or for saying, 'I am thinking about you.' Or even for saying, 'I love you.' But connecting in sips doesn’t work as well when it comes to understanding and knowing one another. In conversation we tend to one another. (The word itself is kinetic; it’s derived from words that mean to move, together.) We can attend to tone and nuance. In conversation, we are called upon to see things from another’s point of view" (Sherry Turkle's article can be found here).

Isn't that what an introduction is supposed to do, call upon one to see things from another's point of view?

I find myself wondering if this shift in conversation has anything to do with the shortening of introductions?

Do we no longer have time for a good story, metaphor, or analogy?

Possibly the difference in introductions is that "flowery" introductions can be considered creative writing, and scholarly writing is often not thought of as creative. In fact, I hear "tone needs to be less creative and more scholarly" all of the time in a lot of my academic writing.

This frustrates me. So, scholarly cannot be fun? Who has decreed that scholars aren't creative writers?

Isn't all writing creative? 

Why is flowery not considered intelligent and smart writing?

This made me think of scientific writing, which is most often straight to the point. A lot of scientific writing states final outcomes in the beginning of the document -- and will even go so far as to list what will be written about in the document right off the bat.

Maybe academic writing is becoming more scientific and formulaic?

Should I be angry at WAC?

I really don't know.

Things I do know:  I appreciate an entertaining and bold introduction, and scholarly writing tends to bore the pants off of me, and although I'm 35, I seem to be a product of the current generation (what is it now...I think I'm technically a Gen. Xer...).

I believe that introductions will continue to follow this trend.

Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if 20 years from now academic papers start with the thesis statement (I'm talking first sentence type of start). Perhaps someday, all that writers produce will be abstracts.

The world seems to to have forgotten how to caress its readers, ease them into the paper, make them want to read the paper, and enjoy reading their paper--seduction of the reader has been replaced by timeliness.

These are the musings of a graduate student on Spring Break.