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Copyright © Louis Schmier and Atwood Publishing.
Date: Tue 10/21/2003 2:25 AM
Random Thought: On Teaching, Part II
I'm back after a brisk walk in the brisk pre-dawn autumn air.
So, what are my answers to Tina's question. What are the realizations I
have been coming to over the last decade?
(1) First, my first obligation as a teacher is in serving the
needs and interests of each student, not in serving my own ego, not in
securing a job guarantee, not in advancing my own scholarly reputation
within the academic guild.
Until eleven years ago, I didn't really truly think in terms of
service to the student. I truly couldn't since I honestly didn't know or
make an attempt to know whom the students I was supposed to be serving
truly were. I got around this problem by claiming that I knew all about
the students when they didn't know about themselves, that I knew what they
wanted when they didn't, and that I knew what was good for them when they
didn't know. I had made all these pronouncements without having asked
them, engaged them, or listened to them. I had resorted to unfounded "in
my humble opinion" and "I believe...." as proof of the validity of my
positions. I got around this second problem of proclaiming that I knew
those whom I didn't know by drawing up self-serving stereotypes, pointing
to emotionally satisfying statistics, and pronouncing encompassing
generalities. Over the last decade, I have come to understand the vast
difference between flattened statistics, herding stereotypes, impersonal
generalities that for too many have become precise absolutes rather than
merely reference points on one hand, and the reality of the unique and
sacred and living and standardization-defying individual human being on
the hand.
(2) Second, students today do not fit into any mould of being
either better or worse than they really are. They aren't any better or
worse then students were before them. They aren't any better or worse
than we were. They aren't any better or worse then we are. The "in my
day," or "I was" or "students aren't what they used to be" prefaces I have
found doesn't really serve a useful purpose because it doesn't relate to
reality. Memory being what it is, the "good old days" are good because we
block out the bad ones. That filter just offers excuses for those
academics seeking excuses not to change, to blame it all on the students,
and/or not to roll up their sleeves and get down and dirty.
In any event, I have come to struggling to be free from past
situations rather than being enslaved to them. What happened yesteryear
to me or in a particular class during a particular term with a particular
student or group of students because of a particular situation, what has
happened to others, ultimately has no bearing on how I must relate today
to a particular student or group of students in a particular class during
particular term in a particular situation. I struggle, and it is a
struggle, not to get myself into that impossible contorted position of
facing a student while looking over my shoulder at another or looking into
the face of a student. And, don't think that is not tough. It is. It is
very tough. What straightens me out more often than not, what throws my
eyes front, is that instead of succumbing to the easier heeding of the
pernicious whispers of the past, I listen to my conscience; I have a
conversation with my inner voice; I follow the beckoning of my gut
feeling; I focus on my purpose, vision, and mission. And so, I struggle,
usually successfully, to come to realize that every day I am a different
person placed in a brand new situation with different people.
(3) Third, there are worlds of difference between studying the
subject a teacher teaches, studying what teaching is about, and studying
how a teacher functions. The first is the world most familiar to us
academics, for it is the world we were trained to live in. It is the
scholarly world of information and knowledge discovering, gathering, and
dissemination that concentrates on our field of study. To put all your
chips into that one research and publish pot poses the danger of
perpetuating the prevailing self-serving myth "if you know it, you can
teach it" or "to be a good teacher you have to be a good scholar." The
second world is the academic self-help cottage industry world of "how to"
that lists ten ways of "ten ways to....." and fosters the belief that
there is some magical recipe for teaching or some sure-fire teaching
method. In this world, exists more often than not the implication that
you can change what you're doing without changing what you're thinking or
feeling about yourself or others. In this world, so often we are told
that it is method or technology that is the most powerful classroom
weapon. It poses the danger of focusing on superficial and stereotypical
formulas that don't take in account either the humanity of the teacher or
the students as a gathering of ever-changing diverse individuals. It is
for these reasons that when I offer workshops I usually go through the
exercises I call "The Parable of the Dandelion" and/or "The Parable of
the Tool Kit" to lead the participants into the third world. This third
world is a world in which the teacher and student are alive. They are
living and complex and unique individuals, continually interacting with
each other, with others, with the outside environment both inside and
outside the classroom, and are engaged in an unending dance marathon of
change. This critical perspective spotlights the need for a "systems" or
ecological" approach, a very difficult approach, that I have come to
appreciate and struggle to implement and utilize.
(4) Fourth, I read voraciously in my subject field. I have
written reams of research and conference papers, untold pages of journal
articles, and volumes of books. I have poured through mountains of
records. I have interviewed crowds of people. I have founded an
historical society, have sat on the boards of other societies, have headed
committees in still other professional societies, sat on editorial boards,
reviewed proposed research projects, consulted and observed and critiqued
projects. I have actively participated in the administrative life of my
campus, have headed key administrative campus-wide committees, was one of
the key persons in the formation of the Faculty Senate, and am presently
actively involved in the university's strategic planning. Now, I ask
myself what among all the historical works I have read and have
contributed, what among all these professional and scholarly activities,
what among all these administrative campus activities have taught me about
teaching? The answer is somber: none. Everything I've learned about
teaching came from what I've read, listened to, studied, experimented
with, developed, and experienced outside my subject field and away from
campus politics. It is a much avoided truth that the skills, talents,
abilities, knowledge, insight, methods, techniques required of a teacher
are far removed and apart from those required of a research and publishing
scholar.
(5) Fifth, the paradox of teaching is that, as Carl Rogers and
Galileo have recognized, I am convinced that other than myself, I cannot
teach anyone anything. To believe that I can teach someone something not
only is to believe I can do something to someone, but to believe I can
control that other person. I cannot do either, whether I threatened or
plead. I really cannot stuff in, forcibly or otherwise. I can transmit,
but I cannot turn on the receiver. Teaching has little to do with what is
done to other people. I can only help, entice, lure each
student to become a partner in his or her own quest to acquire the faith,
belief, hope, courage, and fortitude to seek out, find, call forth, and
utilize that which is within him/herself.
(6) Sixth, if I am correct, this is not to say that I have no
responsibility in the process of a student's learning, that all I do is to
profess and transmit the material, and that all the onus of learning falls
on the shoulders of each student. My responsibility is to persuade, to
create connections and relationships that are unconditionally loving,
supportive, hopeful, encouraging, and believing for each and every
student. When a student feels alone, lonely, inadequate, unwanted, and
uncared for, when a student is left alone like that, there's a terrible
fear that closes the heart and mind to anybody and anything. When I
really make a student feel loved and wanted and cared about, and believed
in, it brings new life in in his and her life. As Daniel Goleman points
out, the glue that commits a person to him/herself and to others is their
emotions they feel. What Goleman calls "dissonance," dispirits students,
burns them out quickly, send them into the shadows, quiets them, paralyzes
them mentally as well as emotionally and physically.
(7) Seventh, being a teacher is to be a persuader.
Students always have their radar turned on full blast. They can spot a
phony on their screen miles away. And when that disingenuous blip
appears, they distrust, turn away, and turn off. I have found that
transparency is crucial. It is not a matter of saying the right things or
being in the right mood. It is a matter of being authentic and living
from my genuine feelings and according to my purpose, vision, and mission.
In the beginning semester "what do you want to know about me" session,
students invariably ask my about my painted right pinky nail; they often
ask me why I have structured the class the way I do. I share by personal
Genesis story of my epiphany in October, 1991. I do so because both are
compelling. I do this because I find that sharing my stories with the
student for several reasons. They feel I have respected them as young
adults; by revealing my humanity and my emotions, the stories create a
bond that is among the first steps to breaking the barriers, building the
bridges, and creating mutually supportive and encouraging community; the
stories talk of self-discovery, change and take the status quo of "it's
not me" and "I can't" and "I'm not comfortable with" off the table. In
these stories, I became a symbol of myself, the model of my purpose,
vision, mission. More importantly, I emotionally engage the students.
Students, like anyone else, will commit to change, growth, development
when they are emotionally engaged, when their hearts and minds are
engaged. My role as a teacher is to keep the focus on the passion and
discover ways to turn that passion toward the action of learning. When
teachers focus only on the subject information, when they are only engaged
at the intellectual level, it's virtually impossible to entice most
students to maintain their energy and commitment, and learning suffers.
It's a deliberate strategy of creating a "creative buzz," but controlling
what I call the "crazy factor." That is, I have to be "bullish" about
them and their capabilities in such a way that I capture their imagination
without scaring them away. If I buy into each of them by having a
supportive and encouraging relationship such as communities, by allowing
them to struggle and to make mistakes, by giving them the freedom to think
freely students are more inclined to buy into themselves.
Whew! That's enough for now. I think I'll stop here. There's
still more to come.
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