Faith in Students

My media students tire of me talking about Top Chef, but it's really the only show I have time to watch during the semester.  Recently, I teared up watching it, too, and not because someone's souffle failed.  The challenge for the chefs to go to the finale involved their mentors visiting them on the set. As the senior chefs entered the kitchen, four of the five contestants became visibly emotional.  One of them, Paul, could barely say hello because he was crying.  I have seen such reunions on reality television before -- between contestants and family.  Here, instead, their mentors were the family.

Why is this sort of bond so strong and full of love?  I think of the person who guided me through graduate school; put up with me when I was strongly wrong-headed, patient as I started to get my act together, and triumphant with me when I finished my PhD.  When someone like that says he's proud of you in an e-mail, well, you print it out and save it.

How does this work in today's world of undergraduate teaching?  Not every relationship becomes so deep, of course.  But some of them do, and not only between professors and their "A" students.  Sometimes it's the "C" student who is struggling with family issues, economic struggles, or a lousy high school background. Some of my most important writing instruction has not covered grammar or spelling, but instead has been a lecture in self confidence:  telling a student that yes, she can do this, it is attainable, and when she's slogged through the work, she will have accomplished something to be proud of.  We can't stretch without risk, and sometimes a teacher's most important task is to convince a student to jump -- or push them onto the playing field.

Showing faith in someone is a form of love.

I have been the lucky recipient of that gift from my parents, some remarkable teachers, my husband and my children.  Not all our students have been given that gift.  If we can be that person, who shows faith in someone who is faltering, we can make a difference beyond the syllabus. It is hard though: students, especially young adults, can be complacent, demanding, whiny and downright lazy.  But until or unless someone says "I have faith you can do this" -- or even, "I have faith you can grow up" -- why would they?

I'm trying not to be maudlin here. There are days I want to clobber my undergraduates.  There were days I wanted to clobber my own children, however, and love was the reason I did not.  Rare is the person born with self confidence, with complete faith in their abilities.  Teachers who plant that seed are the ones we wish to please, to honor, if only to show that their faith is not in vain.  

Push

Several years ago my older daughter, an artist, drew an enormous series of portraits on the sides of a lawnmower box.  The result was poetic, because the subjects were her colleagues in a demanding senior art seminar, and the lawnmower box had the word "push" in big red letters on a couple of the sides.  She and her friends were all part of

 a big effort; they lost sleep, they endured criticism, they were often frustrated, and they came out the other side -- eventually victorious.


I often think about the "push" metaphor during a midterm.  This is when students are struggling.  Some of them have not been to college before, some are overwhelmed at the amount of information thrown at them.  They're losing sleep, enduring criticism, theyre often frustrated.  But it's my job to push them -- not so much that it injures them, but enough maybe, that they feel some discomfort.  There's growth in the discomfort.

Think back to the times when you felt most productive, when you felt like you were really learning something.  Was it an easy, comfortable slide into knowledge?  I doubt it.  It's a lot like builing muscle, because discomfort is involved.  

If you are not occasionally frustrated by your work you are probably not growing.  Teachers, if your students don't occasionally protest that you're working them too hard, maybe you're not asking them to work hard enouch. We don't always know how to push oursleves. We need someone who cares to apply some gentle pressure. To master anything: salsa dancing, a quadratic equation, writing an essay, there's a point in the process when you have to push. 

So push hard.  Know that frustration is part of the process, and have faith that you will emerge victorious.

Teachers and software

Sunday's Times had this article about the disappointing results of very expensive technology in the classroom.

Turns out that very expensive software doesn't necessarily help students achieve higher test scores.Gee, who'da thunk? Me. And just about anyone else who's ever taught young people for a living.

The design of the software seems right; lots of self-quizzes, hints for students to solve problems, the ability for students to move at their own pace etc. etc.  Should work.  Doesn't.  No kidding.

What's missing from the equation is a reason to learn.  Why do we learn anything?  Learning is fun and exciting when it allows us to either survive or connect with another person (which, evolutionarily speaking, helps us survive, too.)  Living the life of the mind is only for people who want to be in a community with others living the lift of the mind.  Otherwise, it's a very lonely place (read Emily Dickinson for background on that.)

The number one thing research points to as adding to test scores is "effective teaching," something that seems hard to define until we connect our reason to learn (survive or connect) to the notion.  When a teacher can help a student see the value of learning in terms or survival or connection, they can be effective.  What do I mean?  Students in college flock to courses that seem most relevant to their job search - survival.  Universities across the U.S. struggle to maintain strong humanities departments and avoid turning into job-training sites.  Understandable -- but since survival is why we learn, the trend is understandable.

To inspire students to live the life of the mind, a teacher has to be someone the students want to be able to relate to and talk to within that life.  Think about the last time you met someone really interesting -- you wanted to be able to "speak their language," or share in their interest, right?  You liked them, so you wanted to connect with them on a higher level.

Whether we're talking about young children who want to be able to "talk science" with their third grade teacher who obviously LOVES science, or university students who have an "aha" moment and pop into a professor's office hours to talk about it, what's happening here is learning for the sake of connecting.

Curriculum matters.  Textbooks, facilities and supplies matter, too.  Paying teachers what they're worth matters.  But for someone to learn anything, they need to be motivated to connect to someone who's already learned it.  That's not about software, that's about human connection. 

It's not about curriculum...

 In this column, Charles Blow of  The New York Times emphasized how
one teacher can change a life.  Please notice that he does NOT discuss anything about the textbook that the teacher used.  He does not talk about the specifics of what she taught.  He remembers the relationship.  He remembers a person who believed in him. That teacher was the person who helped his own abilities and intellect. 

I have started this blog to discuss what I believe is the foremost task for all teachers: to develop a human relationship with students.  As distance courses continue to help people gain access to information, it is critical, I believe, to explore the new role for teachers.  Do we still need classrooms in the 21st Century?  Why?  If all information is already online; if every book ever written is gradually being scanned to Google books, what use are teachers?

The answer, of course, lies in the human connection that occurs between a teacher and a student.  You can be exposed to information without learning it.  You can have a high intellect and not use it.  What inspires us to explore, learn and create?  Other people: teachers. The power is in the relationship. This blog will explore how that relationship works, how it can be improved, and how it must adapt to contemporary technology.