When I walked into class tonight, I saw someone I didn't expect. This man is a well respected, well read, well educated, and well known leader in his field who recently joined the faculty where I teach. He told me that his department chair, for whom I am moonlighting in this particular class, suggested that he come and observe my class. He told me that the chair said he could learn from me about how to interact with students. I am as aware of my strengths as I am of my weaknesses. Still, this declaration took me back. I know that I could do better, that others do better, and that in many ways this man is probably smarter, wiser, and better educated than I. However, even my bosses think I have something of value to convey to him. I can think of three key ways why my lecture style and format differ from my contemporaries.
Although slower in its execution and unpredictable in its direction, I try whenever possible to use the Socratic method. Most professors lecture rather than teach. They parade a litany of facts, figures, terms, tactics, measurements, and mathematics on the board in a red white red hit parade of information that usually overwhelms students. Where possible, I ask questions and let them give me the answers. As participants in the learning process, they gain confidence from the fact that they often give correct thoughts and that I am able to incorporate their contributions to arrive thereat when they are not quite on the money. I want them to be engaged, to get involved, to lead, to ask, and ultimately to learn. We have two ears and one mouth for a reason, but professors are poor listeners and longwinded and verbose when it comes to communication. They were born to lead. They were born for glory, and they need to know that they already know things of use, value, and importance.
I strive to get to know my students and remember things about them that may help me include them in discussions and activities in the classroom. Frequently, students ask me questions I am currently unprepared or unable to answer, and so I strive to return to those topics later to show that I care about the things that pique their interest. They pay a great deal to get an education, and it might as well answer some of their direct personal questions. In order to look out for them, be sensitive to what I share with them, and to make things meaningful to them, I ask questions about them. I learn their names. I use what I get to show them that I'm listening to them, and to prove to them that I can make chemistry (or biology when necessity dictates I teach it) apply to them personally. It is said that people don't care what you know until they know that you care, and when I can call on them personally or relate to them individually, they know I care more than the rest of the college kitten caboodle.
Although all professors view students as children who require assistance, I differ from my colleagues because I regard them as peers and potential future superiors. Most professors seem to look down on students as an impediment to their day, as cattle beneath their feet, and as incompetent boobs. Consequently they spend lecture trying to prove that they know more than the students. Even if that proves true, who cares? We come to school to learn, and so we expect the teacher to be competent, confident, cogent, and coherent. What good does it do to be snooty or to hold students back so that you can shine? That smacks of pride. I tell mine that if they do not rise above what we built and prove they are better, smarter, or more able to adapt to change then our culture, society, and nation will flounder until they rise up. More will be expected of them than previous generations because they have things available to them of which their ancestors could only dream. If one of them one day became my boss, that wouldn't bother me too much. I hope and expect great things.
I am not exactly sure why the department chair thought I could be a useful example to this colleague who I regard as far above my equivalency class in academia. Yet, as gracious as he is intelligent, when he left my classroom he thanked me for my example and told me that he learned many things about how to interact with our students from his experience with me. I don't know if he learned "what not to do" or meant it sincerely as he said it, but it was an interesting event and completely unexpected. I am not part of the Good Old Boy Network (GOBNet), and I am not one of the best educated, highest paid, or well renowned. Very few people know firsthand how well I do my job- My students, myself, and God. It's not a bad public. I am honored to be a teacher and to be recognized in this fashion for my contributions. Education: we're not in it for the income, but we're in it for the outcome.
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