This is a guest post by Dr. Adam Irish, Associate Professor at California State University – Chico’s Department of Political Science and Criminal Justice. Dr. Irish’s research examines the challenges countries face when trying to cooperate, with a focus on how democracy and party politics shape international law and international organizations. He also conducts research on the effectiveness of different teaching techniques, often co-authoring with graduate students.
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I’m trying something different this semester. Most years, like most professors, I post reading quizzes on Canvas: five to ten multiple-choice or true/false questions to confirm that students read for class.
This year, I dropped digital validation for student scribblings on 4×6 notecards. The quizzes also changed – no more multiple-choice queries, just one big, interesting question. Nothing revolutionary, just a small step in a broader move toward analog classes.
Then something unexpected and downright magical happened. Students started writing me. I’d offered a throwaway comment: “If you finish early, you’re welcome to jot down questions, ideas, or interesting news on the back.” At first, it was a few short notes. As the month progressed, longer and more thoughtful comments appeared.
The simple notecard uncorked a reservoir of student curiosities, struggles, and questions – far more than I ever saw in digital quizzes or my inbox. I’d stumbled into an untapped channel of classroom communication.
Notecard Method Effects
Grading notecards is rough. It can take two hours, handwriting is often atrocious, and cards get doodled on or coffee stained. Bullsh*t shows up too.
Yet I’ve never been happier. For once, I’m learning more about the 100+ students in my classes. Each has a can on a string directly to me twice a week. Some use it often, others rarely – but it’s there.
So how is this different from surveys, icebreakers, office hours, or email? I think the difference is threefold. Notecards are 1) personal, 2) slow, and 3) artifact rich. Writing by hand reveals something about them and about me. Doodles and freeform notes or sketches add intimacy to the exchanges. Unlike a rushed office chat, a notecard gives just enough space and time to be dangerous. Students can sketch an idea, ask a driving question, share a like (or dislike), without pressure. My response comes later, in writing.
That friction – the lag of responding – has a final benefit: the card itself. Both the student and I touched it. We wrote on it. We cared. Pro-tip: get a notecard box with alphabet dividers to collect in order and to return them.
A Final Encouragement
In the age of TikTok, ChatGPT, and constant pings, writing on 4×6 notecards help students reset and focus for 5-10 minutes at the start of class. The notecards are also a channel for all the miscellaneous and meaningful bits of class. I’m sure there are other hidden channels of communication in your classes and mine—moments to hold students’ attention and, with luck, spark levity, personality, and joy in ungraded, low-stakes, high-meaning exchanges.
So, dear reader, I urge you to survey your classes for hidden wells of connection. Dig for the attentional oil – even if the tool at hand is a 4×6 notecard.
It makes all the difference.