Teaching

I read your blogs. I see posts about problem students, review packets, incredible lectures and unfair evaluations. I try to think about those things, relate them to how I might approach things, but there’s this big mental wall.

When I approach the wall, there’s a little old man on top. He smiles at me when I get close.

“Hello.” I say to the old man, head back as I meet his gaze from his perch high atop the stone structure.

“Hi there.” He replies, easy and friendly.

“What’s over there?” I ask, just like I always do.

He looks, sometimes turning his back to me completely as he observes the goings on that I can’t see. He returns his attention to me, and shakes his head.

“There’s nothing there for you.” He says.

So I nod, then wave to him as he guards the barrier between me and passing on knowledge via classrooms. I can write papers, give seminars, work with students individually. I enjoy these pieces of the academic experience. I screw them up, seek to improve, but overall, they’re comfortable formats.

I didn’t teach at all in grad school. I put it on my pastel colored timeline that I showed proudly at my prelim. It was on my list of things to do for about 18 months. I even looked over the syllabus for my advisor’s class and tried to pick a lecture I’d give. Just one lecture – like a seminar, but with notes. Never happened. Perhaps I have little skill in teaching, but I rock at avoiding unpleasant tasks.

I don’t mind public speaking. I get nervous, but once I’m engrossed in my presentation – thinking more of the material than of how I appear to my audience – I’m fine. While I’m not crazy about being shaky with apprehension before the talk, I crave the rush of relief that follows it. The questions, the ideas, the flow of information – I loved that part of interviewing and finishing my thesis work. There's something powerful in the verbal - in watching expressions and adjusting accordingly. In telling a joke and the instant gratification of laughter. The give and take is sexy somehow - compelling in a way that makes me feel like an important piece of the puzzle.

So why don’t I teach? I respect it completely. I think it’s incredibly honorable to develop ways to pass on information. To be excited or to push through when you’re not so inspired. To get glowing evaluations or to be unfairly slammed by miserable students. (To be fair, there were many days where I was lost in mental anguish in grad school, and it can be tremendously difficult to resist from inflicting that pain on some professors. My better judgment always won out, but I can see where some people would gleefully slash at professors, even talented ones.)

I think part of me is afraid of that. Of damaging someone accidentally. Of explaining something wrong. Not knowing the answers to questions, or worse, not caring. I don’t get lost in proofs and thrilled from developing known concepts from first principles. In fact, when I read, I look at figures, read text, and think “blah blah numbers equations blah blah” when I get to those sections. I don’t want to teach things incorrectly or stifle some innate curiosity by saying the wrong thing.

I do have some skill though, and feel a bit guilty that my mental wall with its nice little guard prevents me from contributing in that way. So I’m tutoring. Junior high. For an hour each week. Peeking through a tiny crack in the wall, one located very near the ground so I don’t have to stand on my tip toes to see through it.

Things went well yesterday – we talked about multiples and factors. We played a game. Then they wrote out multiples for different numbers.

One girl took 11s. So she went through them. 11 22 33 44 55 66 77 88 99 110 111 112.

So I’m nodding along, but if you noticed, things sort of fall apart there at the end. So I stop nodding, and frown.

“OK.” I begin. “That’s great through 11x10! But I don’t know about 11x11. Can we write that one out for me?”

So the five of us gather around a single white board, and I begin to write upside down so they can see the numbers.

“So, 1x1 is 1 – that goes here. 1 x this 1 is 1, and that goes next to the first 1. Then we put a 0 here in the next row to hold the place, and use this left 1. That goes there, then this goes here, and we add. So…121, right? Does that look right?”

Nods from 2. One cocked his head. The other shook hers. “That’s not right. You have this 1, then another 1, then the other 1 just goes out front. 111.”

Taken aback, I think, no! You can’t just make up math rules!

And that’s the problem. I can tell you how I think about it, how information clicks into place for me. But beyond that? Just…no! I just told you how to do it, and I don’t know how to do it another way. But those extra 1s? They go underneath! Not in front! Because...those are the rules!

I took a breath and dived in to another example with multiplying 2 digit numbers. But I was frustrated with my inability to know what to say. I can multiply! I feel much more comfortable with my understanding of that subject than what I currently research. So I’m disappointed, circling numbers near the not-so-great end of the scale for my personal evaluation.

The man at the top of the wall watches me. He smiles fondly, not encouraging or discouraging. Just waiting, pondering my decisions, peering down as I weigh my words and frown over white boards. I wonder, as I wave again and start to walk away, if I really understand what’s on the other side of wall. Or if I’m ever going to.