Friday, July 16, 2010

It's never too late to change direction

A discussion about "helicopter parents" and their children over at Historiann's place has taken an interesting turn; namely, the question of whether we professors aren't overreacting, and perhaps projecting our own atypical approach to education and college life onto our students.

And yes, I was one of the ones whose immediate reaction was to do just that, from atop a rather tall equine.

And then a couple of commenters went even further, reminding us that a magic "adult" switch doesn't flip on when a student turns 18, or registers for their first class. And it hit me that I've become a bit too cynical. So I'm reprinting my comment here, since it's something that I'm now going to do some thinking about:

I’m really enjoying reading these comments, especially Emily’s, and now Leslie’s, both of which are reminding me that adulthood isn’t an instantaneous process, and there’s a big difference between a student (especially a first- or second-year student) who contacts parents frequently for advice or searching for validation, and a student or parent who expects that the parent will always run interference, absolving said student of any responsibility for his/her actions, and preventing hir from growing up.

Here’s where I’ll take my stand, at least for the moment: from the outside (that is, from a professor’s point of view), it’s very difficult to tell the difference between the two, since we only see part of the picture. And since a few bad encounters (“my dad’s a lawyer!”) tend to make us a bit cynical, we assume the worst when confronted with partial evidence.

I’m therefore going to try to do a reversal on my own reactions, and try to assume that a student is the former type, unless they’re proven to be the latter. This will be a trial run.


I really do think I've become too cynical in my approach to teaching, assuming that, without a whole bag of carrots and sticks, my students will not read, or care, or do anything but take shortcuts. But I never wanted to be that professor, and I still don't. I don't need to turn into a Pollyanna to admit that it's time for a change in my own approach.

I'll let you know how it goes.

UPDATE: Emily posts in the comments about a post that Tenured Radical wrote a while back about developing a less cynical approach, and it's definitely worth a read, so I'm linking to it here.

8 comments:

  1. Oh, I'm glad you clarified. Because I totally was calling you "Polyanna" mentally all this time. :)

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  2. (different) Emily BJuly 16, 2010 at 11:30 AM

    I really appreciate this post, and I want to think about it in my own pedagogy! It also (tangentially) reminded me of one of Tenured Radical's posts in which she wrote about developing a less cynical attitude toward students, a post that has really stuck with me:

    http://tenured-radical.blogspot.com/2009/02/excuses-excusesexcused.html

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  3. I guess I always assumed students would not do the required work without carrots and sticks. But I think that's different from assuming they aren't independent at all or that it's particular to this generation. Or that more involved parents makes them less as people. Still, I am with you on hoping to be less cynical and working on giving people the benefit of the doubt more often. That can never be a bad thing.

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  4. I read What the Best College Teachers Do last year and was inspired to reconsider many of my more jaded teaching strategies:
    http://www.amazon.com/What-Best-College-Teachers-Do/dp/0674013255

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  5. Amstr, I'll check it out. I know no one's approach works for everyone, but I'm interested in ideas.

    NNR: of course you were.

    And the rest of you: I'm glad to hear I'm not the only one trying to retool.

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  6. Notorious, I wonder if the state of the profession isn't one thing that contributes to cynicism, tiredness, etc. And that requires reconnecting with teaching.

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  7. Hi Susan!

    You're right, of course: it's hard to talk yourself into doing more when your work is being valued less. But my sabbatical semester has pulled me out of the fray enough so I can actually think about approaching teaching again with a fresh perspective.

    That alone ought to be an argument for sabbaticals.

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  8. The medical and graduate students I teach in the classroom are so highly motivated to master the material, that I have never had to deal with this. But it seems to me that it would take all the fun out of teaching if you have to play a carrot-and-stick game.

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