Over the next several weeks, the university will process thousands of incoming students, working to sort them into classes that fulfill their major requirements, appeal to their interests and present a reasonable level of difficulty. As my friend is finding out, winnowing MSU’s massive population into narrow time slots is a tricky job.

However, the real trick isn’t finding the balance between morning and afternoon classes, it’s deciding which classes to take in the first place.

The magicians who pull this off are the advising staff. There’s a coterie in each college tasked with helping students shape their academic careers. It’s an unenviable job; you hear people rave about an outstanding professor, but nobody I know talks about their adviser unless they’re complaining.

Often enough, the complaints are legitimate. Advisers are famous for sending students down dead-end paths. They’re really not magicians, they can’t predict the future. In fact, their most valuable tool is the past.

Last semester, I talked to my Honors College adviser about adding a second major in English. He referred me to an English adviser, who pulled up a list of previous Honors students who had pursued advanced tracks in the department.

“But everybody’s different,” he told me. “You should just look at what interests you. And if you want advice for working Honors classes into the degree, I have someone I can refer you to.”
He gave me a name. It was my Honors adviser.

That’s the problem with advising at MSU: If you push too hard for answers, it’s easy for advisers to deflect you to one of their colleagues. The red tape here is like flypaper.

There’s nothing worse than being stuck in a class where you don’t belong, but that’s exactly the situation thousands of students find themselves in every semester. It’s a major cause of low grades, dropped majors and lack of motivation. But whose fault is it really?

Advisers don’t have anyone to answer to if a student has a bad year. Maybe they should, but as it stands, a student’s grades are his or her problem. Finding an adviser who cares about individual student success makes an enormous difference.

They all care, of course — it’s part of their job. That job also entails caring about the dozens of other students who occupy their day in 10- or 20-minute intervals. When the numbers get so big, it’s hard to blame them for falling back on formula.

Overcoming that formula precisely is what makes for a unique and marketable college career, and the only way to drag your adviser into uncharted territory is to have a relationship with him or her.
If they know you — your abilities, interests, history and plans — an adviser becomes an indispensable ally.

The tags of major, age and GPA — which are the unfortunate guideposts upon which these people are forced to rely — fall away. It becomes about you. In an ideal advising climate, that’s the way it would have been from the start.

I met with two advisers during my AOP, and I haven’t seen either of them since. However, due to my frequent academic and work-related visits to the Eustace-Cole Hall beehive, I see the team of Honors advisers almost every week.

When we sit down for business, I know I’m getting advice that’s not photocopied or regurgitated from years past. There are no “success-or-your-money-back” guarantees, but at least I have their attention.

Selecting classes always will be a risk. Even the perfect adviser can’t predict to what degree you’ll rise to meet the challenge of a difficult class. Still, we do — and should — expect them to narrow the options.

The university’s size might force the advising staff to play it safe, but there are advantages to the intimidating number of courses available here. That brick of an index book the freshmen are gaping at this summer signifies the limitless opportunities we students have to explore.

That said, it takes a sage guide to help you navigate off the beaten trail.

Craig Pearson is a State News guest columnist. Reach him at pears153@msu.edu