The talk of private universities in Dhaka rings an ominous bell. There is a fleeting panic that sweeps over and just when I am about to stumble and tumble, and lose my balance all together, I quickly remind myself that I have already completed my undergrad, and tomorrow there is no class to attend.
For BRAC University students, like many other private universities in the city, the woes multiply because of the lack of a proper campus.
But, like all private universities in the country, our woes are primarily centered on the design of the class schedule, the unbearable load of study materials, and the unrealistic expectation from teachers, parents, and society in general.
The unrealistic expectation is that a graduating student will be able to retain lessons taught or discussed in a course out of approximately 40 compressed courses completed over the span of 10 semesters (three years and four months), where, ideally, one semester will be dedicated to four courses (I realise that this is not the usual undergrad program in our context, but the example has been used for specification, and to convey the gist).
The math seems simple and straightforward, but it isn’t as easy as it seems on paper.
When a course is divided into quizzes, assignments, mid-term(s), presentations, and the final, on Day 1, every student understands the glaring harsh truth printed on the A4 paper handed to them by the respective lecturer as an introduction to their paid-for little slice of hell.
You are on the clock. Count every mark. Find shortcuts. Lose sleep. Lose joy. Be expected to be a machine. Fail at every turn.
And in all this, we are to be inspired to research more on a topic, generate ideas, and be basically extraordinary. Some of us do manage. There are success stories.
But why build and continue a tertiary education system where the average student cannot get a break (no, around a two-week break between two semesters is not enough)?
Thinking so is not only laughable, but merely proves that the system needs to stop thinking of undergrad students as machines, read, explore new ventures, and actually learn.
Now, if there is more time to accomplish the unrealistic goals of the set curriculum in private universities, then there could be a paradigm shift. A bi-semester system in Bangladesh can certainly assure more time.
Unfortunately, a pursuit in that direction is thought to be a bad omen, all hell breaking loose, putting private university administration in a crisis management mode all the time, because of a proposed change.
It is thought that an attempt to change to a bi-semester system from our current tri-semester system will severely impact the salary scheme, scheduling of credits/courses over graduation time for a respective major, revenue earned from students (according to courses taken, for example) -- to name a few of the ordeals.
The system thinks that a person in their late teens or early 20s is not to be allowed free time because we will make wrong choices
I am most certainly not an expert on the subject, but to bring forth such a change does not necessarily seem impossible. Think about it:
Keeping the salary scheme same for bi-semester system as it is for a tri-semester system will translate to a lecturer making the same amount of money annually for four courses (two courses per semester in a bi-semester system for instance), against what a lecturer makes annually for six courses (two courses per semester in the tri-semester system).
This technically means more money for lecturers for less work which is bound to improve the quality of lessons and also means the same amount of money is being allocated for faculty/administration/staff, ie not a major change.
Redesigning the scheduling system
Under the bi-semester system, if a student needs to take on six or seven courses per semester to complete the undergrad program within the same time (say four years) as in a tri-semester system (four courses in one semester), students will probably prefer the bi-semester system.
So, in the end, a student will take on roughly the same number of courses annually in a bi-semester system as in a tri-semester system, just that, in the former, the student will get more time to study one course.
This alone should be the final push needed to pursue, not reject, a bi-semester system in Bangladesh.
I have had the privilege to take on courses which I thoroughly enjoyed in the ENH department at BRAC University, and always imagined how much more could have been accomplished with more time.
The same thought resonated when I took on unpleasant Economics courses; time was of the essence, and we were given no time at all.
Still the same annual income
If students are paying for the same number of courses annually in a bi-semester system like they are in a tri-semester system, then isn’t the university earning the same amount of revenue?
I understand that private universities are tuition-driven, but this change, in the most technical sense, will not be interfering with that drive in any way or form. So what exactly can be the hold up?
Yes, nightmarish can be the right word to describe how much paperwork and effort it will cost all the private universities to make this change.
But, in the long run, a bi-semester will do all Bangladeshi undergrads a lot of good. So take one for the nation?
I have also come across the argument that more free time for students will lead them to unsavoury activities, and probably that is the root of the problem.
Are we to graduate slightly aimlessly, heaving a great sigh of relief, only to find out that those rushed four years of undergrad didn’t really teach us anything at all?
The system thinks that a person in their late teens or early 20s is not to be allowed free time because we will make wrong choices. It is this mindset that needs to be reformed and requires immediate evaluation.
Time spent and invested in undergrad program is not jail time. We are to be inspired, encouraged to take on new ventures, not be shackled down with cramming courses and sentenced to demotivation.
If only the people who have the power to put this change into effect felt the same way.
Nusmila Lohani is an Editorial Assistant at the Dhaka Tribune.
