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.

Repetitio est Mater Studiorum

Repetition is the Mother of Learning. Repetition is the Mother of Learning. Repetition is the...

If you are among the rank and file of those educated in Catholic schools, it is probably safe to assume that you are familiar with the phrase Repetitio est Mater Studiorm, along with a (heavenly?) host of other Latin slogans (Ad Majorem Dei Glorium! Ave Maria! Salve Regina! Carpe Diem!). But whether or not you attended one, it's probably true that when you think of Catholic schools, you thinks of iron-clad rules enforced by iron-clad nuns. Or maybe you think of elderly priests smacking smart-talking boys. (Let the record show that this particular Catholic schoolboy was desperately well-behaved, never once talked back to any priests, and definitely never missed so many 8:00 am classes one semester during his senior year that his poor religion teacher thought he had been thrown out of school.) Basically, you might think about restrictions.

Repetitio est Mater Studiorm beautifully captures that stereotypically rigid Catholic world. As I type the phrase, I can hear hippies spinning in their graves. In a quick Google search, I saw several web sites that claimed repetition is the mother of brainwashing, not learning. That the only way to learn is through  a complete lack of constraints, through total and utter freedom. Whatever that means.

This is essentially the same issue that haunts writing centers and freshman composition classrooms: how much time should a teacher or tutor devote to "skills and drills"-style work on grammar and punctuation? The underlying problem is that many of the rules of English grammar and punctuation more or less need to be memorized, even by native English speakers. (Fun fact courtesy of Dr. Jad Smith: English has more irregular verbs than any other language.)

Let me be clear what I mean by "grammar and punctuation." I'm talking about comma splices, dangling modifiers, misplaced modifiers, as well as the litany of other errors English professors love to circle in red pen. My point is that these types of errors are habits. We all have good and bad habits. And we all know that breaking bad habits takes a lot of time. And, from a pedagogical perspective, the time spent helping writers break bad lexical habits could be spent freeing student writers from all constraints and restrictions. (By the by, isn't freedom always a brainwasher's proclaimed goal? If I planned on brainwashing a group of people, it's not like I would come out and say that I wanted to brainwash them. I would say that I wanted to give them something. Something like the freedom to express themselves more fully.)

But here's another way to look at it.  Lynne Truss, whom I have already cited several times in the blog, equates good grammar with good manners. Both grammar and manners serve to aid human interactions, which are frequently fraught with complications.

Take, for example, a recent experience I had while waiting tables. I have worked as a waiter at a fancy Bosnian restaurant in St. Louis for about six months. In August, a young man who planned on running for public office (maybe alderman?) came into the restaurant for dinner. He met with the restaurant's owner because he needed the Bosnian community's support for his campaign. There are about 75,000 Bosnians in St. Louis, by the way, and the city would be in some seriously dire straights if the Bosnians had not emigrated to St. Louis en masse during and after the horrific war that occurred in the 1990s. The guy running for public office seemed nice enough. Unfortunately, when I watched him eat, he put his left elbow on the table, held his fork like it was a spear, leaned over his plate, and proceeded to shovel delicious Bosnian food into his mouth. It was like he had not eaten in days. I have never seen anything quite like it, and I used to teach at an all-boys middle school.

Shoveling food into your mouth is not a crime. And, function-wise, it totally works. It's not like your gastrointestinal system cares too much about table manners. Bad grammar, also, is not a crime. If the reader is still able to understand what you want to say, everything's gravy. Grammatical and punctuation mistakes often obscure a sentence's meaning, but generally do not make the sentence unintelligible.

However, here's the thing. Grammatical mistakes make the reader work a little harder. In some rare cases, grammatical mistakes will make the reader want to vomit and never ever support your campaign for public office.

This is why teaching the habits of good grammar and punctuation is very important, despite being both time-consuming and reminiscent of rote-learning at the hands of nuns packing wooden rulers. Like good manners, good grammar must be practiced for it to stick. And it is worth it. Perhaps no one told our potential alderman that it is totally rude to cram food into your mouth at the dinner table. Or, maybe, in whatever culture our potential alderman is from, inhaling one's food is a sign of respect. But, in the restaurant's kitchen, the owner did not wonder about our potential alderman's cultural background. Instead, the owner went on at length about how he would never support the campaign of someone who could not follow basic dining etiquette.

Writing in Plain Language

Yesterday, while working in the Writing Center, I asked a colleague of mine what type of writing the students are doing in the Communication Disorders Class he has been assigned to as a Writing Fellow.

Thankfully, Greg is used to my nosy nature and humored me.

"Well, right now they are mostly writing in-depth but understandable descriptions of disorders and biology."

So I replied, "Like a case study?"

And he said, "No, easier than that."

To which I countered, "Like pamphlet writing?"

During this quick Q&A/banter, the Director of the Writing Center happened by. Upon hearing this Dr. Taylor replied, "So they write in a way that parents can understand," which of course made me think of audience awareness.

And suddenly I was transported to a doctor's office in Normal, Illinois six years ago.

When my third child was born he contracted Spinal Meningitis and was hospitalized for two weeks on IV therapy.  The medicine that is prescribed for SM has a side effect of mild to total hearing loss. Our doctor told us this rarely happened and she had never had a patient experience any loss of hearing due to the medication.

So, we didn't worry about it until my son wasn't making the cooing sounds that babies start making around three to four months of age.

By the age of one he hadn't made any sounds aside from crying, not even a "mama" or "dada." My husband and I made an appointment with our doctor, who referred us all about, and we finally ended up at the office of a Speech Pathologist/Hearing Specialist. James, our son, had a 70% hearing loss and would need extensive speech therapy as well as surgeries to repair abnormalities in his ear canal.

We were handed documents that appeared to have been written for scientists, we felt as if we might have needed a degree in biology to understand them. This was very frustrating for us, and why would a doctor's office hand us pamphlets that were most definitely not written for the general public? Did they not know their audience?

Flashback to the Writing Center and Dr. Taylor's comment. 

I found myself overjoyed to hear that these students were learning to write in such a way that the average person could understand the disorder afflicting their loved one.

So, then I asked Greg if he could understand the writing and he said, "Well, now that I've been in the class ... yes."

I was crushed. If Greg couldn't understand it, without having been in the class, then what hope is there for the average guy?  After all, Greg is a Smarty Pants.

The entire conversation kept bringing me back to audience awareness. 

All the tough research, brilliant discoveries, vital information basically means nothing if the people that are intended to read the documents cannot understand the material. Important information is lost.

I wonder why audience awareness is such a struggle, especially when people often know exactly who they are writing for. I'm sure the people that wrote the pamphlets for my son's Speech Pathologist knew they were writing for parents, but how could they have missed the boat so badly?

I believe that assumptions cause a lot of problems in terms of audience awareness. And you know the age old phrase about assumptions..... 

More than likely, a lot of people are writing with the idea of what the audience is in their heads. However, those ideas are heavily impacted by the type of person the writer is. The type of life they have led, the ethnic group they've grown up in, the discourse communities they interact with--all of these factors effect how a person assumes. 

The way in which someone can go beyond their assumptions and write in a way that truly addresses their audience is to get to know their audience. 

Research!

Researching an intended audience is pivotal in making sure that writing is clear and understandable. True, it isn't possible to write in such a way that every person gets every single point you're making, but it's possible to get fairly close to that goal. Researching is so much easier now, thanks to the internet, than it was years ago. 

Also, more than likely, people who are writing information in regards to Communication Disorders have communicated with real people before. I'm sure they didn't just drop out of the sky into a Dr.'s office or College Classroom. The trick for them is to take material that is difficult and translate it into the language of everyday people.

Greg told me that he thinks the students are getting very close to being able to do just that. The first set of papers were very technical, but as the semester has moved on, he has noticed students are able to write for a professional audience of scientific colleagues as well as the audience of everyday people. 

I have to admit that I had never really even thought about audience awareness outside of the writing classroom or the theater, but after having spoken to Greg about his class ... I see it everywhere.

It's as if we are all hyper-aware of our audiences, yet we have forgotten how to really speak to them.

Is there a cure? Or a quick fix to make us all truly communicate in ways that everyone understands?

Well, kinda.

The Center for Plain Language believes that audience awareness can be achieved through the use of plain language, which they define as information that people can find, understand, and use. 

As they describe on "What Is Plain Language?", this type of writing is "...information that is focused on readers. When you write in plain language, you create information that works well for the people who use it, whether online or in print."

And here's more from that link: 

Our measure of plain language is behavioral: Can the people who are the audience for the material quickly and easily

• Find what they need

• Understand what they find

• Act appropriately on that understanding

This means that the definition of “plain” depends on the audience. What is plain language for one audience may not be plain language for another audience.

Plain language is more than just short words and short sentences — although those are often two very important guidelines for plain language. When you create information in plain language, you also organize it logically for the audience. You consider how well the layout of your pages or screens works for the audience.

The Center for Plain Language website is a wonderful resource. There are many examples, checklists, guidelines, and even a blog to help people make sure their information is found, understood, and used.

If a writer is truly aware of their audience than she will make sure she writes in a manner in which the the audience can comprehend. Sometimes that means going easy on the bells and whistles, sometimes that means writing in a way that will not win you a major award for fancy pants vocabulary,  and sometimes it means sacrificing your ego and putting the needs of your reader first.