On the first day of class, a student suggested that I show Charlie the Unicorn; a film he thought would fit in well with our discussion. Much to his surprise, I replied, “OK.”

After watching the film, I asked students how Charlie the Unicorn was relevant to our composition course. Some students were totally baffled; not an unlikely reaction to having watched Charlie being led to Candy Mountain by two highly annoying unicorns only to find that they were out to steal his kidney. Others came up with some very creative ideas as to how the film fit the theme of the course. And others just enjoyed the delightful, silly film.

But Charlie the Unicorn is a cautionary tale that does apply to much that is wrong with education. We too often use pretty words to convince ourselves and others that we are headed to Candy Mountain. We use pretty words proclaiming our commitment to student engagement, quality teaching, and so forth. Yet, we set policies and procedures and priorities such that we too often undercut our pretty words. We too often demonstrate that we would rather steal someone’s kidney instead of deliver on our promises.

Although he did not intend it as such, the student who suggested we watch Charlie the Unicorn showed a movie that challenged me by asking if I was prepared to support my pretty words with specific actions. Maybe my student had already heard other faculty members promise a trip to Candy Mountain only to find that he had been deceived. I know that I have had this unfortunately experience.

During the summer, I participated in a professional development opportunity that did not live up to the hype. The expert presented a poorly prepared session supported with a weak PowerPoint and a sophomoric video. It was a painful experience that was a waste of my time and the college’s money. I was not amused. Nor should students be amused if we do not deliver on the transformative education we promise them as they proceed through their college courses.

On the first day of classes, one of my colleagues saw me with my candy basket and commented that “Dr. Berg makes the rest of us look bad.” Because I have heard similar comments from this colleague before, I suspect that my classroom antics really bother her. I did not reply, “Then what are you going to do to improve your teaching?”

Lady Gaga tells us that “life is theater” and I know that candy is just a prop to deliver the substance of my first day of class message; that I care about student learning. And you don’t need candy to care. By focusing on the treats, my colleague missed the message.

Each of us has the capacity to demonstrate our commitment to students in ways that are consistent with our own personalities and teaching styles. For example, one popular colleague I admire would come across as a phony jerk if he were he to try to replicate my first day of class activities. Furthermore, I could never pull off his effective classroom style. But both of us know that the theatrics are not the message.

Even more important than the theatrics of throwing candy at my students the first day of class was the fact that I said “OK” when the student suggested that we watch Charlie the Unicorn.

Showing this short film was not part of my meticulously prepared first day of class. Because we watched Charlie the Unicorn, I had to drop one of the videos that I had carefully selected to advance the lesson of the day. However, the essence of the first day of class was to communicate that I care about student engagement. And isn’t giving a student the opportunity to be engaged far better than simply telling students I want them to be active learners who take responsibility for insuring a successful course?