Letters are important. They help us evaluate prospective students and colleagues. They give us insight into candidates that we can't get from transcripts, writing samples, GRE scores, or cover letters. They aren't the only thing that gets you into grad school or gets you a job interview (despite what some arrogant faculty might think), but they do matter. Each of us owes the folks who wrote (and continue to write) for us a huge debt of gratitude. Because letters take time and care to do them right.
Too bad nobody takes the time to teach us how to write them or manage the labor.
Letters of recommendation bring with them a number of generic constraints, most of which I have absorbed by osmosis. I've learned what makes a good or bad letter by reading a lot of them and writing my fair share (of the good kind, of course). Over time you learn what to say, what not to say, how much to say, and how to say what's uncomfortable to say. The best letters make claims, offer evidence, and contextualize the evidence so the reader understands its significance. The evidence itself comes in many forms, but is most useful when it offers objective data (e.g., person X got grade Y in my course) as well as examples from actual interactions (e.g., so-and-so showed her ability to work independently by tackling extra readings on topic X). It took me too long to realize that if I can't readily offer both kinds of evidence - if either the objective measures aren't up to par or if I can't immediately offer something meaningful about the person as an individual - I probably shouldn't have agreed to write the letter.
I'm thinking about letters now because this week I'm writing for six different people applying for all kinds of things: post-docs, academic jobs, graduate programs in multiple disciplines, law school. Some of these folks are people I know very well, while others are students I once knew well enough, but it's been a while. I don't keep track of the number of letters I write in a given year, because (despite cocktail party proclamations from colleagues who are sure they write more letters than anyone else) I know that everybody does it. Besides, the number would probably depress me. Developing strategies for managing the load is key. I'd love to know what others do, but there are a few things I've learned.
Students never go away. Be prepared for students you had several years ago to contact you when it's time for further education. In addition to keeping grade records *forever*, I've learned over time to jot other brief notes to myself as well. Many's the time a quick note in a file about a paper topic has been all the cue I needed to develop something in a letter. Students also remember this stuff; you can ask them what their project topics were if you've forgotten.
Good teaching breeds letters. If you are a good teacher, if you are in any way supportive of students, if students find you "approachable," and yes, if you are a woman, you will be someone they turn to for letters. Expect it but don't be too flattered by it; there may in fact be others who can write Student X a better letter and you shouldn't be afraid to say so.
It's not bad to have templates. Letters are work and should be written with care and attention, but you don't have to reinvent the wheel. Templates will evolve over time. Eventually you'll have templates for students who have taken particular classes or done certain kinds of research, templates for students applying for different kinds of jobs or programs (e.g., the law school rec), templates for particular kinds of students (e.g., the student-whose-GREs-or-grades-don't-reflect-her-potential), etc. Templates are good.
Whatever else you do, at least have a handout. Whenever a student I had as an undergrad approaches me about a letter, I immediately send them a copy of my "so you want a letter of recommendation" handout. It saves me the time repeating my rules (how I want you to give me stuff, what time frame I require, etc.). And it also allows me to be firm or turn down students in a detached, uniform way: need it in a week? Sorry, unorganized student, my handout says I need more time. Apart from the problem of sheer numbers, letters of rec are only really problematic when students don't conform to your norms. Having a handout that tells folks exactly what I want, and how, cuts down on a lot of that frustration.
So, those are my rec recs. What are yours?
when my undergrad rec load was exceedingly high (i.e., when i was teaching a lot of english undergrads), i had a weblink that listed my criteria for letter writing. there i even say that if a student gets a B or lower in my class, they'll want to ask someone else.
i got the idea from one of my grad professors who said that basically an "A" in his course meant he would write you a rec letter. (he had a really sophisticated view of the institutional message sent by grad grades.)
having just read an enormous batch of recommendation letters, i can tell you that you (and i) are rare in the evidence-offering business. most folks seem to think that their assertions about someone's brilliance stand on their own. this is relatively annoying on one hand but on the other hand everybody is busy. it's a toughie.
Posted by: dhawhee | 07 January 2009 at 09:47 AM
Hi Cara,
Can you forward me a copy of your handout?
Thanks,
Jen
Posted by: Jennifer Levy | 07 January 2009 at 10:14 AM