Dear Professor Blank,

I’m writing because I really want to get into your overenrolled class, and I feel like this might boost my odds. I know that you’ll probably ignore this email or skim through it and reply with a copy-paste response, but I’m hoping you’ll remember my name and spare me when it comes time to cut people from your class. I’m sure you hate watching these emails fill up your inbox, and trust me when I say I take no pleasure in writing them, but I guess this is just the way we have to do things around here. Please, please, please let me into your class. Please.

Best,

Harry

Whether you are a student or a professor, this email probably looks familiar. Every preregistration cycle, students seeking coveted spots in popular classes feel obliged to write an email to professors expressing their interest and begging to be accepted. These emails often follow a rote template and are sent out en masse to professors at the College. Personally, I don’t like writing these emails, and I know many professors don’t enjoy receiving them. So why do we send them every single semester?

The answer to this question can be found in the prisoner’s dilemma. In this famous thought experiment, game theorists imagine two criminals who were arrested together being interviewed in separate cells. If neither criminal testifies against the other, both of them receive a one-year sentence. If both criminals testify against the other, they each get five years. However, if just one criminal testifies against the other, the criminal who testifies gets out scot free while the silent prisoner must serve a ten-year sentence.

Given the comparatively short sentence length of one year, it seems like the logical choice is for both of the criminals to stay silent. Game theorists posit, however, that it is unlikely that the criminals will remain silent. Because they are unable to communicate, each criminal will worry that the other will testify in pursuit of full freedom, landing the silent one in prison for ten years. Thus, even though a five-year sentence might result from testifying, each prisoner will take this unfavorable option because they worry that the other will do the same.

Our (admittedly more benign) email problem tracks with the prisoner’s dilemma. Most students would prefer not to send pleading emails. However, each student also worries that one of their peers will send an email to a professor, landing the more proactive student a spot in the class and pushing out the silent one. Therefore, even though no one really wants to send these emails, many of us still do. So are we, just like the prisoners, stuck with this less-than-ideal option? The answer is no, for one major reason.

In the prisoner’s dilemma, the interrogators manipulate the sentencing conditions,  incentivizing the prisoners to testify rather than remain silent. In our case, it is professors who perpetuate the conditions that trigger the “email dilemma.” By staying silent about their preferences, the professors essentially force students to send emails to everyone whose classes they hope to take, just in case a single professor actually wants an email. However, unlike the interrogators, professors aren’t satisfied with the current outcome: an inbox full of ingenuine emails from students vying for a spot in their class. In my experience, at least, many professors have complained about the deluge of repetitive emails that they receive around preregistration time. They too are annoyed by the outcome of this no-win dilemma.

So, professors, I’m speaking directly to you now: Please fix this situation. You have the power to dismantle this frustrating system, even the playing field, and increase institutional transparency. All you have to do is indicate in the course catalog whether or not you take into consideration emails expressing interest in your class. If you do not want these emails, say so clearly, and they’ll stop. Those of you who truly want emails of interest should still indicate that in the “enrollment preferences” section of your course description. You could also indicate that you will send out an interest form, or some other method of gauging interest, to all preregistered students. In return, you will get thoughtful responses from all interested students, not just those who happen to have the time and energy to write four monotonous emails at the beginning of each semester.

Clarity about email preferences would benefit everyone involved. Professors, please speak up in the course catalog and end this frustrating phenomenon once and for all.

Harry Albert ’25 is a computer science and philosophy major from Pittsfield, Mass.