During my
last year of graduate school, while writing my dissertation, I accepted
a position to teach at the University of Massachusetts Boston, a campus
that had been in existence for only a few years. The offices and classrooms
were comprised of rental space in several office buildings in downtown
Boston, still a number of years away from moving to a more permanent
site at Columbia Point. Although the physical trappings were different
from the tree-lined, grassy knolls of many other colleges, this did
not seem to bother the students. Many in my classes were the first
members of their families to attend college and their excitement about
doing so together with being pioneers in the creation of a new university
more than compensated for the lack of grass and trees. The setting
at the University of Massachusetts Boston triggered fond memories of
my own undergraduate education when I attended college in a similar
environment in Manhattan.
My responsibilities
required that I teach three sections of the same course each semester
with approximately 30-35 students in each. I felt fortunate that at
that point there were no large lecture classes with hundreds of students
enrolled. Although I had been a teaching assistant during graduate
school, I was now embarking on a new journey in my professional career,
namely, assuming responsibility for my own classes.
This responsibility
generated excitement as well as some trepidation. This was the first
time I was teaching this particular subject and I had not had the time
I hoped for in preparing my notes during the summer. Not only was I
spending hours each day conducting research for my doctorate, but,
most importantly, my first child, Richard, was born in mid-May, resulting
in a very busy household. Rich was born a few days before I was to
begin my research at several hospitals, research which was postponed
for a couple of weeks so that my wife and I could adjust to the incredible
presence of a child. What busy times, but as I recall those days, I
appreciate the challenges and beauty of welcoming a child into the
world, beginning a very rewarding professional career, and completing
study for my doctorate (I guess with age, I have pushed aside memories
of the anxiety occasioned by these events).
Connecting
the Dots
In my January,
2006 website article I wrote about a commencement speech delivered
by Steven Jobs, founder and CEO of Apple Computers, to graduates of
Stanford University. One of the points he emphasized concerned connecting
life's dots. Jobs noted, "You can't connect the dots looking forward;
you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that
the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in
something—your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever." As
I noted in my website article, Jobs' observations prompted me to reflect
on my own journey. Little did I realize that certain practices I adopted
at the University of Massachusetts Boston were to have a significant
impact on my later views and writings about such themes as classroom
climate, motivation, and resilience. Paralleling Jobs' observations,
with time I could certainly connect the dots looking back.
As I prepared
to teach at the University of Massachusetts Boston, I considered my
experiences as an undergraduate student and the professors whose courses
I had attended. Numerous questions arose, including:
"With
which professors did I feel most comfortable?"
"Which
professors created a classroom environment that was thought-provoking
and one that I would not want to miss?"
"What
did these professors say or do to create this atmosphere?"
"With
which professors did I feel least comfortable?"
"What
classes did I not mind missing?"
"What
did professors say or do (or not say or do) that led me to feel more
distant from them?"
I felt the
more I could define the approach and practices of those professors
whose classes I never wanted to miss, the more I could model some of
my own teaching practices on what they did. My goal was not to be a
clone of the educators I admired, but rather to learn from what they
did and to incorporate their successful practices within my own teaching
style.
I discovered
that my positive or negative evaluation of different professors had
little to do with the amount of work required for the course. For example,
one of the most demanding professors I had in college was one I greatly
admired. Her academic requirements were very extensive and her tests
very challenging. She had the reputation of being a "tough grader." Yet,
after being in one of her courses, I enrolled in her other classes.
I felt she had nurtured what I was to call years later a "motivating
environment."
Somewhat
to my surprise, how much time a professor spent lecturing as opposed
to engaging the students in dialogue was not as much a determining
factor in my evaluation of their effectiveness as I had expected (as
long as their lecture style was filled with enthusiasm and they were
not reading from scripted notes).
Certainly,
knowledge of the subject matter was an essential quality of an effective
teacher. However, with rare exception all of my professors possessed
such knowledge; yet, for some this knowledge did not translate into
a teaching and interpersonal style I wanted to emulate.
I continued
to consider how a professor's approach contributed to a favorable classroom
climate. All of the professors I rated highly displayed a passion for
what they were teaching. Their love of the subject was obvious and
their enjoyment enriched their classes. Also, a professor's sense of
humor was important to me. I found that humor served to nurture an
environment in which students were more comfortable and more receptive
to learning. Years after my undergraduate days I authored a chapter
about the importance of humor in therapy and have encouraged the use
of humor and playfulness in therapeutic and educational settings. Connecting
the dots backwards once again.
Perhaps the
most salient factor in my ratings of professors was whether I sensed
they "knew" their students, whether they made an attempt
to learn our names, whether they were available and accessible to us.
I am aware that if one teaches hundreds of students, getting to know
each one is not possible, but I have known professors who conveyed
the message that they were accessible even when teaching a large section.
Here is another
example of connecting the dots backwards. Years after my first teaching
experience, I began to focus on the topic of classroom climate. I emphasized
in my workshops and writings the importance of developing a positive
relationship with students. I shared with educators that when I interviewed
students in elementary and secondary school and asked them what actions
teachers and other school personnel could initiate to help students
feel welcome, the two most frequent responses were: "greet me
by name" and "smile." I began to share a saying I had
heard, namely,
"Students don't care what you know until they first know you care." This
interpersonal dynamic, which seems very apparent, needs to be in the
forefront of our thinking.
Relying on
memories of my undergraduate and graduate education, I decided to begin
each of my University of Massachusetts Boston classes by discussing
my teaching style and practices. I informed the students that I would
be calling attendance for the first 3-4 weeks of class primarily to
learn their names, not to monitor their attendance. I also said that
if at any point they wished to see me during my office hours, they
should not hesitate to make an appointment. I emphasized the importance
of no one feeling reluctant to ask me questions. I wanted to establish
the same kind of positive tone that my favorite professors had created.
I found my
teaching experiences at the University of Massachusetts Boston to be
very rewarding and satisfying. I was energized by the enthusiasm of
the students. They were open to asking questions, expressing their
ideas and insights, and challenging assumptions. My office hours were
always filled with student appointments. At the conclusion of the semester,
students completed evaluations of each professor. I was delighted by
the numerical evaluations I received, but of greater importance were
the comments of the students. Many of them highlighted my effort to
learn their names and get to know them; they felt that this effort
contributed to their motivation in class.
Many readers
may ask, "Shouldn't all educators attempt to foster such a welcoming
atmosphere in the classroom whether they teach in elementary or secondary
schools or college?" I would offer a resounding "yes" to
the question, but at times a focus on the teaching content takes center
stage while consideration of the teacher-student relationship is relegated
to the background. While some educators appreciate the importance of
the student-teacher relationship, what is most disheartening is when
I hear an educator minimize the importance of this relationship. "I
am here to teach a subject and whether a student likes me or not or
whether I know a student's name is not important." I disagree.
I believe it is very important.
Appreciating
the Relationship
Those reading
this article might wonder what prompted me to reflect upon my early
teaching experiences. It was an article that appeared in The Boston
Globe last month. The article, written by Peter Schworm, was titled,
"In College, It's Who You Know: Instructors Take Pains to Learn
Students' Faces."
The article
describes the efforts of college professors to learn the names of their
students. Schworm writes, "The goal goes beyond simple politeness.
Faculty hope the effort will make students feel comfortable, sparking
a livelier exchange of ideas. The approach also gives large lectures
a personal touch that makes students feel less anonymous and more accountable
to the class."
Gregory Hall,
a psychology professor at Bentley College in Waltham, MA studies ID
pictures on an internal college website prior to the beginning of classes.
Hall observes, "If you feel a personal connection, you feel obligation.
It creates a sense of community in the classroom. They are the Facebook
generation, so they aren't surprised by it at all." Schworm adds, "Faculty
members stand to benefit, as well. Many students applaud the effort
in teacher evaluations, which carry some weight in promotion decisions.
And a round of good reviews on ratemyprofessors.com doesn't hurt the
cause, either, faculty members noted."
The same
article reports the practice of Beverly Jaeger at Northeastern University
in Boston who during the first class of the semester requested 20 students
in her freshman engineering design class to write their names on a
folded piece of construction paper and place it in front of them on
their desk. "It's pretty important for me to know who you are.
I don't want you to be just an ID number." She then walked around
the room to speak individually with each student. One of the students
reported that he welcomed the personal touch and felt it unified the
class.
I was thrilled
to hear the efforts these and other instructors were making to forge
a closer relationship with their students.
A
Concluding Thought
It's difficult
for me to believe that my initial teaching experience at the University
of Massachusetts Boston occurred in 1968—40 years ago! Writing
this article brought back wonderful memories, many of which go beyond
40 years to those teachers and professors from whom I learned; they
truly touched my mind and heart and contributed in innumerable ways
to both my personal and professional life. With perspective I can connect
the dots backwards and appreciate more fully the impact they had. They
are the educators who got to know me during my years as a student.
I and countless others are the beneficiaries of their kindness and
thoughtfulness.
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