I find it very hard to determine what my authentic teaching style is. To me teaching is a very dynamic experience, where I have to constantly adapt to the ever changing mood of the audience. For example, my lecture before a big “test week” requires a different type of engagement than as if it was just a normal week. I have to find new ways to engage the students in the topic that I am presenting, and be understanding that their success in other class is also a priority for me.
More interestingly enough, each one of the three sections that I teach have different characteristics. I may present a topic a certain way for my 9:00AM class, and everyone is active and engage. While presenting in the same manner for my 3:00PM class causes my students to become disengage. I have learned to read the aura of the classroom and present the materials in multiple ways in order to maximize student engagement.
The way that I deliver my information may vary from class to class, but my enthusiasm of delivering the content remains the same. I feel that the students can sense the passion in what I teach. Being excited and believing what you are teaching are extremely important because the students can feel that energy. In addition, I understand that not all of my students share my views. As long as they put in efforts to understand multiple perspectives they will do fine in my class. My objective as an instructor is to train my students to be active thinkers and are able to adapt to any situation necessary. Adaptability is a key trait that I want to teach my students because there are not many “best” methods of doing something. But there are a lot of different ways to accomplish the same task.
In addition, I do try to share as many practical experiences as I possibly can in my class. I feel that by relating the course materials to what I have experience in my life helps the students see the intricacy of the topic. By doing this, I hope that my students are able to take what they have learned in the classroom and apply it to the “real” world. I know throughout the undergraduate curriculum we only learn to get the “A”. However, what differentiates an “A” student from and exceptional student is the ability to utilize and adapt the knowledge that they have gain to solve new problems. By showing my students how I have adapted my course material to my life experiences, I hope that they can do that too with all of the classes that they are taking.
Of all of our readings for this week, I enjoyed Dr. Fowler’s “The Authentic Teaching Self and Communication Skills” the most. It summarized my own experiences with teaching well. I’m in a fairly unique position this semester as an instructor. I taught labs for two semesters when I started my MS in 2013 and 2014, and now I’m teaching labs again in 2017 as part of of the requirements for my PhD program. I am having such a different experience this time around! Granted, this is a different institution and the course material that I’m responsible for this semester is also very different, but I don’t think those are the only reasons. When I think back to when I first taught, I was 23 years old and was just getting started in this world called academia. I was barely removed from my students in age and experience and pretty introverted. I had very little experience giving public presentations, let alone being seen as any sort of authority figure. Being responsible for 75 students a semester and getting called “professor” on a regular basis made me uncomfortable and anxious. Who was I to be teaching these students? Inexperience and impostor syndrome combined to make teaching incredibly stressful. Of course there were amazingly rewarding moments where I connected with students on personal levels or saw them improve over time, but those often felt overshadowed by my own frustration and resentment, stemming in the end from a lack of confidence I think. I was relieved when my teaching responsibilities were over, but also saddened. Teaching and sharing knowledge are so important across disciplines, so I wanted to do so much better! I wanted to enjoy it! I hoped that I would have the opportunity to try again.
Over the next couple of years I was consumed by my MS research, but I did have many opportunities to practice speaking and teaching in both formal and informal settings. With every presentation, I slowly but surely went from blindingly anxious, to nervous, to just some butterflies 30 seconds before the talk. In the moment it didn’t feel like I was making that much progress, but apparently I was! This became especially apparent when I started teaching again this semester. I don’t get nervous at all. It is mind-blowing to me the difference between now and then. I think my lectures must come across more clearly and the students genuinely seem to be enjoying themselves. As I mentioned before, there
This katydid is a member of the family Tettigoniidae (unless you completely mispronounce it in front of an audience)
are definitely differences between the course I’m teaching now versus the one I taught in the past, but I don’t think that it’s entirely due to that. I think I am more comfortable with myself as a speaker and instructor. I speak with confidence from my own experience during my previous degrees, my studies now, and my life in general. When I talk about the scientific method, interesting insect species, or the things that can (often humorously) go wrong during field work, I use real examples from my own research. I try to present myself as honestly as possible. I am unafraid to laugh with my students when I flub the pronunciation of a scientific name or if make some other relatively trivial error. No one can get everything right all the time! I try to leave space for both myself and my students to improve. I am both unapologetically sarcastic and prone to making cheesy jokes. This is as much for my entertainment as it is for theirs. I know that the material that they’re learning is tough, but it doesn’t have to be torture, and neither does teaching itself. As an introvert, I never thought I would get so much satisfaction from public speaking. I can report that I am enjoying teaching much more this time around, and would happily teach again in the future.
Who do I try to be while I’m teaching? That’s the question. I took my broad categories from Sarah E. Deel’s article on finding her teaching voice and from Shelli Fowler’s authentic teaching self article. As I reflect on five semesters of TAing and then teaching as instructor of record, I try to be:
Authentic (Broadly) – I’m not an actor or a performer by personality. So, I decided early on that I would be myself in the classroom. Each class I plan to have topics to cover and to leave time for discussion. I try to relate to the students in a back and forth way when they ask/answer questions and I try my best to provide nuanced clarifications or supplemental information when students assert things that are, shall we say, not quite empirically sound. I teach in Political Science, so opinion is part of the game but I want opinions of all sorts to be well-informed and thought out. I tell jokes and sometimes they land, sometimes they don’t. Lame jokes are part of my out of the classroom personality so I try to bring that into my teaching. I also try to show when a particular topic/issue/theme is genuinely exciting or thought-provoking for me and, perhaps more importantly, I try to be encouraging when a student brings into a discussion something that makes a connection for them or that they find interesting and engaging.
Prepared – I never walk into class without a plan for what I want to cover for the day. I also try to prepare just the right amount of material for each day. I worry more about running out of material but I also don’t want to assign so much reading that we don’t have time to talk about most (ideally all) of the key ideas. I taught two days a week in the fall (75 minutes) and this semester I teach three days (50 minutes). It has been a learning experience adjusting and understanding how much I need to plan for different length sessions.
Organized – I order my notes typically in the order that the chapter or reading for the day covers the material. I try my best to take each concept or topic one by one and exhaust explanation and discussion of them before moving to the next concept. I taught Israeli history in the fall and so this worked somewhat more organically in that course as I taught the history chronologically while stopping to talk about important themes and events. History seems to lend itself to organization in this way.
Flexible – Even though I try to be prepared and organized I also try to remain open to shifting needs and interests in the classroom. If someone asks a question that prompts 20 minutes of discussion, and therefore we don’t get through all of my planned material, I don’t stress about it. Often the discuss is more interesting than it would have been for me to go through the material. Ideally the students will have done the reading (I live in the real world and I know some ((most?)) don’t) but they have it in any case. They can refer to it for content but the discussion is where hopefully a lot of the learning and critical engagement happens.
Approachable – One of the best parts of teaching is when students come to office hours to chat more about a class topic. It doesn’t happen that often, but when it does it’s really great to connect with the students about the course material, about ideas and issues raised in class and about their individual interests in the course and how it connects to their broader educational and intellectual growth. Because of all of this, I try to remain approachable. Unless I’m running to a meeting, I’m around to talk after class and I try to meet students for office hours (as much as possible) when their schedules allow.
These four aspects, authenticity, preparation, flexibility, and approachability, have (in)formed my teaching style so far, and it’s going well. Practice, as they say, makes perfect and I am approaching teaching as an on-going practice and learning process.
So in thinking about this week’s post, I wasn’t exactly sure what to write about. I asked myself, “How do I know what my authentic teaching self is because I am just starting my career as a counselor educator.” But after going through the assigned readings for the week, I felt myself associating with a lot of the faculty experiences and suggestions. I had to remind myself that my teaching experience began over 15 years ago. I started helping my karate instructors lead classes when I was only about 12 or 13. A few years later, I was one of the senior instructors at that karate studio. Teaching karate classes was such a special experience to me that was engaging both mentally and physically. But since that time, my teaching experiences have varied drastically!
The next stage of my teaching came years later when I worked as a math tutor at the community college I was attending. That was quite the learning experience also as I had to hone not only my math skills but how to help people individually instead of in groups. The physical nature of my karate instruction was no longer necessary when teaching a student algebra. Eventually, several years of tutoring experience provided my supervisors with enough confidence in me that I could teach developmental algebra classes. It took some adjustments to my teaching style, but it was the same material I had been tutoring people on for a few years.
The biggest challenge to my authentic teaching self came last semester when I co-taught my first counseling class. Up until that point, I thought I was pretty comfortable in the teaching role, but that role completely shifted with a counseling class. Not only was I not the only teacher at the front of the room (a first for me), but I was no longer meant to be in an expert role. Teaching math, I was the one with knowledge to impart on the student and algebra usually involves very specific right and wrong answers. Teaching counseling classes, we encourage the master’s students to not think about counseling as right or wrong because there are so many ways to counsel that are just “different.” Teaching math, my own personal experiences weren’t relevant to the topic, but in counseling, sharing my own personal and professional experiences was encouraged. Another random aspect that I never much thought about was where to put my hands while teaching now. I always had a marker in my hand before and used the board regularly. Now where do I put my hands?!
First image to appear when I googled “sage on stage:”
So after all these changes, I was shocked that my “authentic teaching self” for math and karate classes actually made finding my “authentic teaching self” for counseling classes more difficult. For karate classes, I was clearly the higher rank over my students, and respect for those of higher rank was extremely important. Teaching math, I was the one at the front of the room who had the knowledge the students needed. Now all of the sudden, I’m NOT supposed to be the one “sage on stage!” We want to treat master’s counseling students as colleagues and give them the autonomy to develop their own unique professional identity. And now suddenly issues of privilege in the classroom were on the forefront instead of being an afterthought as before. All of these changes in my environment made for a much more difficult transition than I expected, and my views on pedagogy have forever been expanded.
Fortunately, there have been some consistencies in my teaching that were touched on in the readings this week. I’ve found that in each of these situations, good communication skills has been the cornerstone of teaching. I’ve also valued being genuine, even though different parts of myself tend to emerge in each setting. I acknowledge wholeheartedly that people taking algebra classes probably only do it because it is required, while counseling students usually feel a call to the profession as I did. There is no need to pretend about either of those realities. But the overarching theme that I am taking away from my experiences and this week’s readings is that my “authentic teaching self” is always evolving and must be adapted to the teaching situation. As hard as these transitions have been, I hope that it has provided me with greater awareness when approaching a class and the abilities to reach out to students’ individual needs.
In my blog On Why I am Reluctant to Blogging, I expressed the importance I attach to authenticity. While teaching, I strive to be my authentic self. Finding my teaching voice has been a journey of conciliating the different voices and educational systems I was exposed to and creating my own voice.
I had the privilege to be educated in three different educational systems; Arabic and French system in Morocco, and the American system. These three educational systems, although very different, do share some similarities in teaching styles.
For some context, Morocco was under the French protectorate from 1912 to 1956; the French controlled most of the educational system during this period. After Morocco’s independence in 1956, Morocco undertook the educational system under the influence of the French system and kept French as a second language. As for the anecdote, German almost became America’s official language in 1795 (but that’s another story).
The reason I am uniting language and educational systems are that I firmly believe that language shapes our learning and how we learn. Studying in any language means that there is some degree of influence by the system of education in that country where the language is natively spoken. By extent, a teacher is also subject to an already set environment of teaching that they adapt to, be it French system, American system or any other system. In other words, teaching American history in English in the United States could be different from teaching American history in French in Morocco, and not just regarding language but also teaching styles and methodologies.
I grew up studying at a Moroccan school, where I was instructed in Arabic, French, and English. When I started my higher education, most of my professors and classes were taught in French, so I got very accustomed to the French teaching and educational style. When I came to the United States, I had to transition into the American system.
In mentioning “American” or “French” or “Arabic” system, I do not mean to present a monolithic and homogenous view of what that system is. I simply would like to reflect on common trends that I have personally experienced throughout my higher education.
From my experience in the French system, classes were formal, professors mostly lecture in a very structured format with headings, and numbered points. When the teacher speaks, students are expected to take handwritten notes and ask questions by the end of the lecture (preferably not during the lecture in order not to interrupt the professor). In my field of political science, I was often encouraged to have a nuanced standpoint as opposed to the strict dichotomy of bad or good, right or wrong. In most of my classes, formal attire was highly recommended. These little anecdotal facts reveal a bigger picture of the orderly setting of the French educational system. Students and professors had a straightforward relationship, which meant that if a professor were unsatisfied with a student’s performance or work, he or she will not manage their words or coat it in sugar but say it bluntly and openly.
When I transitioned to the American educational system, I was surprised by how laid back the teaching style seemed. Professors didn’t hesitate to use games and class activities to convey a learning lesson (which felt like being in kindergarden). In addition, professors were not overly conventional in their class rules, food, caps and fit flops were allowed (it took me some time to get used to that). Formal attire was not a requirement (I got asked so many times if I had a presentation, so I gave up wearing formal after a while). The relationship between professors and students was closer, with regular office hours and interactions. Instructors tried to protect students against criticism, my instructors never told me that my answers were wrong, only that there may be another way to respond.
While I don’t favor a system over another, I think both the French and American system has taught me to be a better professor. I, as an instructor, am a blend of these three educational systems, French, Arabic and American. I had the opportunity to learn from three approaches that complement each other in so many ways. For instance, while I hold my students to very high standards and provide honest and generous feedback, I also make sure that I am always available to meet my students and help them overcome their difficulties. While I encourage my students to take handwritten notes during class, I also share pamphlet summaries of the methodologies discussed. While I think it is important to maintain a formal relationship, I do not hesitate to introduce myself at the beginning of the class (which few of my professors do) and help my students get to know me better and understand my teaching style.
I have enjoyed writing this blog and could write an extended version of it later with more details and precision. The main message that I want to convey is that: before being a teacher, we were (and still are in some ways) students. As students, who are becoming professors, we are shaped by the teachers who taught us and by the systems in which we were trained. I like to share this diversity of teaching styles with my students. Teaching is, after all, knowing yourself and bringing the best of you, to the service of the student’s learning.
I am naturally a very quiet and unfriendly person–not unfriendly in the mean or antagonistic way but in the awkward “people make me uncomfortable and I’d rather be home by myself” way. So teaching two classes of 40 students public speaking can be hard. I know what I’m supposed to teach them and why. I know how to answer even the most obscure questions and how to make the required activities and assignments sound important and helpful. But I can’t make jokes, my enthusiasm level only goes so high, and I’m awful at making conversation even during small-group moments like their outline workshops. (The irony of me being a Communication Studies major while being unable to hold a normal conversation is not lost on me, but I’m more of a theory and research kind of gal.) It doesn’t help that even I’m bored to tears by the sound of my own voice.
I don’t need to be the friendliest teacher ever as long as the students (for the most part) grasp what I’m teaching them and improve on their public speaking. But I would like the students to perceive me as approachable, comfortable, and my “lectures” as not that boring. My goals as a teacher sound easy to most, but almost impossible to me. Even this semester instead of making progress with my goals, I seem to have just increased my own anxiety. When I walk down the hallway toward my classroom, each time my heart starts pounding and my limbs become stiff, and I can’t completely relax until both my class sessions are over.
I think the only way to get over this (and I’m not recommending it to anyone) is to have two different “faces” when I teach–one for my students and one for me. To lessen my anxiety, I would convince myself that the students’ reaction to me doesn’t matter, that I don’t care what they think as long as the information, reasoning, and physical practice is available to them in my class. Since my anxiety will hopefully be reduced, my second “face” will be one of casual comfort and approachability. Maybe I can even start working on my conversational skills when I’m not overthinking it.
No one person is alike or has the same flaws, so no teacher or teaching style can be labeled as the “best.” We all have to figure out what works with our own personal hangups and strengths. Some individuals’ personalities are more compatible with teaching than others, and some directly oppose it. But that doesn’t mean these people (including me) have to stop being teachers. All anyone can do is actively search and explore what is best for them and best for their students.
“This is my voice, there are many like it, but this one is mine.” –Shane Koyczan, “This is my Voice“
Allow me to complicate things for this week’s topic:
I have two voices. One of them is silent.
Yet, both are part of my authentic teaching voice.
The Non-Silent Voice
(Like I said, the non-silent voice)
When I walk into a classroom on the first day, usually into a philosophy class, I give a brief bio about myself and then jump straight into one of the most important parts of that class: community building and context setting. By context setting I mean being honest and transparent about the often unsaid and left out things.
For the unsaid (but sometimes implied):
We as a class will be creating and making this classroom together
We are responsible and accountable to one another
My students are the core while I am a facilitator of their narrative and
exploration into the topic
I am more concerned with them learning to be honest with themselves about what they believe, and why, than with their actual views
I will invite them to engage in difficult conversations and to lean into the discomfort of challenging discussions, with the hope that they will eventually trust that the conversation will take us all to deeper levels of understanding both about the topic at hand and, more importantly, about ourselves as interlocutors
For the left out (and rarely implied):
We should be mindful of accessibility/We will remake the space as needed to make it more accessible
We will discuss things they never learned or were intentionally not taught in school (null curriculum)
They are welcome to be their authentic selves in the class; they don’t have to hide their beliefs or say what seems “mainstream”
I am more concerned that they leave with transferable skills than knowing the minute details of the philosophers we discuss
I am human, have opinions on these topics and I won’t reveal any of mine until the end of the course.
To this latter point, I tack on the truthful disclaimer that I will at times motivate and defend views I do think are false because they are the topic of the week and it is my responsibility as a facilitator to give them an accurate lay of the land to explore. That last part usually gets left out.
Next we do introductions. We take time, careful time, filling out note cards and an intake form that give background information that I want to know such as:
major
past history in philosophy
current beliefs (so I can flag the tensions that will pop up sections to section and so that they can reflect on what they believe at the end of the semester)
things they’re actually interested in so I can work in topics/recommend readings
“preferred” pronouns if they should have any
I also ask them to draw me a picture on the note card as well but I don’t tell them why until the end of the semester. Pictures and non-traditional methods of concept presentation/acquisition happen a lot in my sections. Finally, we go around the room and share one embarrassing thing that happened to us to establish lines of common, yet different, experiences (lots of people falling down stairs, I share falling down a hill into my first field hockey collegiate game) and we start talking about the reading.
In a normal class session we do processing to work through anything that folks aren’t quite sure about from the week’s readings, we do a peer led discussion where 2-3 students lead a discussion/activity on a given topic for their colleague, we unpack the activity, do another small group conversation, and end with a participation page where they can ask me questions/reflect on what they are thinking about. This is also where the introverts can participate in a more introvert friendly space.
So far everything I’ve named has been the (usually) audible, present voice I bring into the classroom. It is with this voice I try to nurture, not tolerate or merely accept or support, the voices, opinions and thoughts of the students I work with. It is with this voice I try to support them when they say they “just can’t get it” and challenge them to formulate the argument on behalf of their opposition when they get to haughty.
My teaching self tries to be both high in support and high in what is called “control” in Restorative Practices models but more accurately translates to “challenge”. I try to challenge all my students to improve even when they struggle and to reach out to one another as colleagues in a mutual labor of learning difficult concepts. They each receive feedback on their work and at the end of the semester they get an “improvement” based grade in addition to the university required letter grade since when I said I care about improvement, I meant it.
I try to foster a classroom environment where they are accountable to one another, not merely to me, and an environment where ultimately I would be irreverent. One in which unpopular opinions can be shared openly, honestly, and where we can have a philosophical discussion about the tensions among views without the need for facilitator oversight.
All of this (I hope) sounds pretty decent, right?
What then is the voice that is missing?
The Silent Voice
In the classroom an intentional style, and approach, I take given that it is philosophy is to tell my students almost nothing about my background. I tell them a little bit, like the main areas I work in so that they know I may give more feedback than normal if I know the literature; I flag that I’m a diversity trainer for the university (and that they may run into me outside of class); and give a bit of history (reslife, old majors) with the end note of “I know that unforeseen things will happen in your lives; just keep me in the loop when, and if, you need some sort of accessibility move to balance life’s challenges”. Like I said, high in support and challenge.
But what I don’t reveal is also of import when it comes to my authentic teaching self:
I don’t tell them that I’m a moral realist, intuitionist, and deontologist.
I don’t tell them that I’m a conditional vegetarian who thinks I should be a vegan.
I don’t tell them that I think killing is self-defense may not always be morally permissible (a very unpopular view).
I don’t tell them a myriad of other philosophical views that I, reasonably, think I am probably wrong about at the end of the day.
And outside of philosophical views, I intentionally don’t tell them I’m trans.
In philosophy we have a major problem with bias both in the discipline and about the discipline and, historically, this bias impacts facilitators and students.
On their end, if students know that I believe x they are more likely to focus on either a) catering to my beliefs or b) take any criticism of how they formulate an argument to be only due to the fact that I think a different view is more plausible. There is also a tendency to link identities with beliefs and that’s one of the reasons I don’t say anything; why I don’t “correct” for pronouns and have a mixture of “ma’am/she” and “sir/he” floating around the classroom (and email) everyday. The trans*/minoritized identity=liberal=this belief about x is too pernicious to avoid it any other way. That and the fear of being perceived as “forcing my views onto someone’s child” for merely existing is a conversation I’d rather avoid.
While for some folks reading this, it may not make sense to have to hide, obscure, or simply leave out identities, not everyone can do that. There isn’t usually a lot of risk when someone who is in a different gender relationship/partnership mentions that they have wife/husband, for example. There can be tangible risks if you’re in a same gender relationship, a poly relationship, unmarried with a child, queer, etc.
As I said, I wanted to complicate things this week and this is the complication. Depending on your identities, or more accurately the identities that people perceive of you, this “authentic” self sometimes has to be policed by the very person it is supposed to represent.
We can’t talk about our authentic teaching selves without naming the things that we must leave unsaid.
Bridging the Gap
With my audible voice I “use” this silent voice at the very end of the semester to do a consciousness raising activity in what I think constitutes a type of ethical manipulation. Specifically, I use my silence as a tool to get students to reflect on what implicit bias means for them and their communities. During this class we talk about implicit bias, they do iceburg activities with one another naming the identities and histories they assume about their partner, and then they guess things about me. I don’t answer their guesses just as I haven’t answered their guesses during the other weeks.
In leaving a space of intentional uncertainty, my students get to see that not everyone makes the same assumptions about me, and I leave them with the question of which guesses were right, which guesses were wrong, and an invitation to consider what it would have meant if I walked into a space where folks were making multiple, conflicting assumptions. I end by asking them to take with them the question of what assumptions folks make about them and how those assumptions continue to shape their paths in the years to come.
My silent voice ultimately is not the one I speak with, not the one that shows up to facilitate philosophical conversations with students thrice a week beyond being present in absence.
In being silent, and silenced, this part of my authentic self gets used to at least raise consciousness and make a philosophical point that is memorable, transferable, and, just sometimes, world shattering.
It may be silent, but it shapes my approach to teaching as much as if not more than my non-silent voice.
And You?
When we speak about our teaching voices, the kinds of facilitators we are or are working on becoming in the classroom and lab, our approaches, techniques, strengths, oddities, I don’t think we can leave out the fact that some of us, if not all of us, must have dual voices.
Not all of us can be our authentic selves in every classroom without monitoring the plurality of voices that we have; each authentic, real, and felt in a different way.
I struggled all throughout summer with how to end that sentence prior to my first day of teaching. Though I’m a GTA, my face would be the only face students would see in the classroom. My youthful, smiling, pretty, 22 year old face was the only face that was supposed to hold some sort of authority within the classroom. My Public Speaking class is a mix of freshman who probably took this class thinking they should just get the requirement over with and seniors who put taking this course off until their last year. I’d be the same age as some of these students. Though I wasn’t intimidated by this, I was unsure as to what they should call me. With such a close approximation in age as most of my students, I didn’t want them calling me by my first name. That was too “chill” for my liking and gave off an impression that I just wasn’t willing to work my way out from under after the first day. So, just use your surname you’re thinking. To many, that’s an easy solution but for me it was not. I’ve always loved my last name. It’s an easy name to remember, to pronounce, and to joke about. However, it’s not a name that conveys authority, professionalism, and expertise in any arena that I would like to be associated with. Friends suggested I use my mom’s maiden name since it was my middle name. Again, a logical answer. However “Ms. Friend” didn’t convey the right type of impression I wanted to give off either. I eventually sucked it up, told myself that my students were going to have to deal with it and that I would take no shit for it. So, on my first day of class, I walked to the front of the room and said, “Good morning class! My name is Ms. Hotter.”
I’ve only taught four classes so far, but I have never received any sort of backlash for my name by my own students. The only time my last name has been commented on was by a colleague’s student that I had substituted for. His comments were addressed quickly and nothing more of it was said by him or any other student.
Thankfully, the atmosphere I wanted to create with my classroom is something my students have praised me for in my SPOT evals. They love that I play music before class starts so there’s not awkward silence. They appreciate my relatable and approachable manner. I’ve even had a student comment on how he/she enjoyed my sarcasm and that it made PS his/her favorite class to attend. There’s definitely a lot of issues that can arise when teaching at such a young age but I’m trying to take this as the opportunity to really learn how to communicate and relate to my students (in a professional manner of course). I try not to shut off my own personality too much when teaching. There are a few things I have to catch myself from doing in front of my students but that’s all a part of the learning experience. One thing I have learned is that when I see a student downtown at a bar, it’s best to just duck, cover, and move onto the next bar. It’s not worth having them give you funny glances the whole time.
“How do I create a professional relationship with my students? Can I maintain authority and treat students fairly while striving for them to like me? Where should the boundaries be? If I become my students’ buddy, how can I assess them properly (i.e., give them low grades when appropriate) without compromising our relationship?” – these are all questions that have came across my mind as I have yet and anxious to teach a college course yet. These questions zero in on my mind, especially when I kind of do want to be the “popular professor”. During my tenure as a substitute teacher I was the “cool sub”, when I would walk into the schools that were familiar with me, especially the high schools, the students would bum bar me with questions like “what class are you subbing for?” “Can you sub for my class soon?”, “When are you going to be here again?” As I enjoyed seeing their happy faces and listening to the different confidential adventures they’d go on the weekend prior I was afraid I was becoming a friend instead of a professional instructor. It felt as though I had little authority, the times I did get frustrated some of the “gate keeper” students would see my frustration and yell to their peers “Be quiet! I like this sub and I am not trying to get in trouble!” But I felt like that should have still been my job to find the balance of being the professional authority figure and the “cool sub” and the same time.
Finding out who I am as a teacher and finding my teaching voice is something that I can honestly say I am anxious more than anything about teaching. I want to be able to find that balance being that confidant,, stimulating my students’ knowledge, and having that authoritative respect from my students all at the same time. Is it a process and something that comes with time?
The “Authentic teaching self” really helped me to think and answer some of the above questions. The idea that “teaching is not always about you”, for some reason that resonated with me I was thinking about me and my position in the classroom more than my future students. The handout suggested to “step outside of yourself” so that you can be attentive to the students and not make the classroom your stage with the students as a passive audience. This suggestion helped my anxieties calm down a little. Finding the balance is important but recognizing that teaching is about the students is even more important. This was just my Aha! moment.
Have you ever had a tough time in classes when you want to say something and the moment is suddenly gone?
Have you ever thought so deeply about the answer to a question that by the time you reach a thoughtful conclusion it is too late?
Have you ever raised your hand in class and slowly lowered it because the professor did not notice or you decided to not say what you had to say anymore?
Well…that is me for sure! I am an Introvert!
And quite frankly I am completely satisfied with it. I believe that it is a part of my true authentic self. Yes! I know you all are getting ready to write your blogs about your authentic teaching self. For the past few weeks spending time with you all in class has been a fantastic experience for me.
As I read your blogs every week, I observe that you are making the connections, that you are trying, that you are putting forth your ideas for us related to the information we present for your perusal. And even though in the moment it may be confusing, disorganized or elusive, you are sharing your thoughts about the concepts presented and I enjoy reading your thoughts SO much. But, something is missing…
Last Spring, when I took GEDI, something was missing for me too till I got to the post about MY true authentic teaching self…you know what it was? My voice…because
Yes they do…and yet, I realized while I wrote this post last year that my voice and being able to communicate my ideas IN CLASS was super important. Not only for the benefit of my professor or my participation but because I needed to hear my voice in the classroom in order to find and be my true authentic self. Some of you may be inspired by my post, some intimidated and some not find it useful…but I know one thing – I want to hear your voice. I want you to speak up, I want you to raise your hand and keep it raised till you are called upon to speak.
I’ve only taught four classes so far, but I have never received any sort of backlash for my name by my own students. The only time my last name has been commented on was by a colleague’s student that I had substituted for. His comments were addressed quickly and nothing more of it was said by him or any other student.
