The conclusion is: done well, no, it isn't. And I strive to do lecturing well - I understand the "a sort of dance" bit that the writer refers to; I change topics or expand on tangents if I get questions or if I can tell the students are intrigued. Or I change or drop things if there seems to be confusion (in which case, I'll think of a new way to present it and come back to it later) or boredom. I try to tell stories - I use case histories or research examples. I use analogy. I use the QWERTY keyboard as an analogy of how sometimes we see "weird" solutions to problems in evolution - how they suggest there was some constraint in the past that no longer exists. (The QWERTY keyboard was developed, in part, to prevent fast typists from jamming the machine, back in the day when each letter was on a separate lever). I try to share the excitement I have for learning stuff and for making the oddball links between things with my students.
I like this paragraph:
To excel as a lecturer, it is necessary to find delight as a lecturer. In part, this means ferreting out what is most intriguing about the topic under discussion. It also means attending carefully to learners and seeking and sharing their enthusiasm. A great lecture is not a rote mechanical reading of notes, but a kind of dance, in which lecturer and listeners watch, respond to, and draw energy and inspiration from each other. One of the greatest pleasures of lecturing occurs when learners pose insightful questions that the lecturer did not -- perhaps even could not -- foresee.
"Finding delight as a lecturer" and "ferreting out what is most intriguing." Yes, this is very true. That, and the "attending to the listeners and sharing their enthusiasm" is one of my favorite parts of teaching.
Some days, if the students are responsive, if they are interested and "get" what I'm talking about, it's a very good day indeed. But again, there are days when everything is "off," when I'm not quite up to it, when the student seems bored - and I walk out the door questioning myself, questioning lecture as a technique, questioning everything.
But maybe I need to hang onto the fact that on the good days, what I experience is very much what Gunderman talks about in "good" lecture - so maybe I'm not so bad (nor is lecture such a dead method) after all. That I may not be the "superstar teacher" but that I do more often than not, reach and engage students. I do have people coming back from grad school thanking me for the preparation I gave (mostly in Biostats, but in some other classes), or I have people coming back and telling me they 'kicked butt" on a particular section of the ETS test because of things I covered in Ecology, or they tell me how stuff they learned in my classes relates to what they're doing in their classes now. And I really should count that as a win, even if I don't use a lot of the flashy high-tech or high-touch methods in my teaching.
And you know, something I was thinking of the other day? I really, really hate the "rockstar teacher" or the "superstar teacher" trope that a lot of "inspirational" movies are based on. It makes me feel inadequate, because the implication is that you ALWAYS need to be a "superstar" and that real "superstars" will get everyone engaged, even the students who don't want to be. And that's not true in real life. (Then again: movies aren't reality. I think of one of my grad-school buddies who taught at the local community college and how he was amazed when a student observed, in wonderment, to him: "You know, movies aren't like real life. You never see anyone brushing their teeth." though I think the "brushing teeth" bit was more metaphorical than literal).
I think of one of the nicest notes I ever had from a student. This was someone who was a non-traditional student, a woman not that far off from me in age. I enjoyed having her in class; she was engaged, she asked good questions, she came up with interesting insights.
Well, after the semester was over, I got a note from her. Thanking me. She mentioned she had been thinking of dropping out of college (she had gone back to finish her degree after a break of some 10 or 12 years), and she had felt like she stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb, she felt like she didn't fit in, she felt like what she was doing was pointless. But then, after my class and after the way I treated her, she decided maybe she was cut out for it after all. And she did stay on, she finished her degree and she has quite a nice career now - and arguably, in her field she is more of a "rockstar" than I am in mine.
But after getting that note, I racked my brains to think of what it could have been I did or said to her that made such a difference. And I couldn't come up with anything. I treated her just as I would treat any student - answered her questions, encouraged her when she came to me excited about something, reassured her when she was unsure, criticized constructively when I felt she could do better. I treated her just as I would any student, and I treated her as I would want to be treated were I a student. (The good old Golden Rule, yet again).
And I couldn't come up with anything I did differently. Oh, maybe there was something I happened to say on a day when she was particularly discouraged and she remembered it as a bigger encouragement than I did. Or maybe the fact that I was a woman close to her in age, with a career in biology, helped her to realize it was possible. I don't know.
But here's the thing: I wasn't a rockstar or a hero in that case. I didn't do anything I'd regard as unusual. But obviously what I did was what was necessary for her. Even if I didn't realize I was, I was doing something right and I'm grateful that I did, that whatever offhand encouragement I gave her, whatever respect I may have shown her at a time when she felt disrespected otherwise (she was also going through a fairly uncomfortable divorce at the time), made the difference.
But I do admit, there's a strain in our culture - or maybe I'm just one who sees it - that pushes us all to be ROCKSTARS. And those of us who really aren't, not in the big flashy way, feel inadequate.
But maybe, just maybe, in whatever quiet way I did it, I wound up being a rockstar to that student, or maybe a better term is a hero to that student, on a day when she needed it. And it wasn't big or flashy or unusual - it was just what someone needed when they needed it. Or maybe, just maybe, it's not necessary to be a rockstar, it's just necessary to be human to other people - to encourage them when it's needed, to give helpful criticism when that's needed, to even give the kick in the pants when THAT'S needed - and to stand back when it's needed and let them flourish. And also to remember that I can't fix everything (heh, shades of that "not being enough" of the other day), but that when I CAN help, I can help pretty well.
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