TeachingA College Teacher's Mission

A College Teacher’s Mission

A few decades ago I served on the jury in a highly publicized, double-murder case. The woman who was charged admitted the crimes but pleaded insanity. The trial took several weeks, during which dueling psychologists offered conflicting testimony, At the end the jury was sequestered during its deliberations, and eventually the defendant was found not guilty by reason of mental disease or defect.

While I still recall many of the details, what I remember most vividly is the seriousness of the jury in carrying out its duties. From the moment we entered the courtroom and saw the accused sitting with her lawyer at the defendant’s table, the weight of the moment affected us deeply. The other jurors and I listened carefully to the judge’s instructions and made every effort to carry out our obligations as scrupulously as possible. A woman’s life hung in the balance, and our responsibility was to ensure that justice was done. (We were pleased when after the verdict was announced several officers of the court came to the jury room to thank us for service and indicate that they believed we had reached the correct decision.)

Most importantly, although we were forced to endure a variety of inconveniences, we realized that the proceedings had not been planned to suit us. We were being asked to make a momentous judgment and were expected to do so as conscientiously as possible, regardless of our personal preferences about the process.

Let me now contrast this experience with an occasion several decades before when my brother and I took a cruise to Nassau. From the moment our ship left the dock until the time we returned, the crew made every effort to cater to our wishes. Food and drink were available at our request, and innumerable activities were arranged for our pleasure. We were the focus of attention, and the aim of the enterprise was to fulfill as many of our wishes as possible. Of course, the hope was that we would find the experience a positive one and register for additional cruises. Although I never did so because I found the rocking of the ship to be unsettling, I admit that having expressed desires fulfilled without delay by an amiable crew is delightful.

Now I ask: as a college teacher, do you expect the experience to be more like serving on a jury or taking a cruise? In other words, do you anticipate that administrators and colleagues will seek every opportunity to satisfy your desires, or do you expect that the obligation to guide students and treat them equitably will weigh heavily on your conscience and temper your enjoyment?

For example, suppose you are asked to share office space when you would prefer to have your own. Or you are given a Monday, Wednesday, Friday course schedule although you would rather not teach on Fridays. Or you are asked to offer a course that is not your first or second choices. Or faculty meetings occur at inconvenient times. Or some of your students are more frivolous and less knowledgeable than you had hoped.

If you are expecting to be a passenger on an academic cruise, then you will be greatly upset by these inconveniences. But if you think of yourself as a member of an academic jury, then these matters will assume far less importance. After all, as a juror the room in which you meet may be cramped and windowless. The court’s schedule may be inconvenient, and the trial may spend hours devoted to topics of little interest to you. You will be required to forego reading any newspapers or watching any television shows that might contain stories about the trial.  You may even be sequestered for a time, cut off from home and family. Yet a person’s life or welfare may hang in the balance, and thus you put aside every annoyance and concentrate, instead, on fulfilling the duties you have been sworn to uphold.

As a college teacher, you also assume serious responsibilities, and, although you may rarely think of the matter in these terms, your actions may put students at risk. Recall the words of Socrates in his initial conversation with Protagoras:

             “When you buy food and drink from the merchant you can take

             each item back home from the store in its own container and

             before you ingest it into your body you can lay it all out and call in

             an expert for consultation as to what should be eaten or drunk and

             what not, and how much and when. So there’s not much risk in

             your purchase. But you cannot carry teachings away in a separate

             container. You put down your money and take the teaching away

             in your soul by having learned it, and off you go, either helped or

             injured.”[1]

Which of us has not been victimized by a professor’s meanness or carelessness? Or developed a blindness or aversion to some potentially fascinating subject as a result of an incompetent, tedious, or aberrant presentation?

Granted, college teachers are not usually in position to affect the life of any individual to the extent a jury might, but their activities ultimately affect the life of an entire society, strengthening or weakening its members’ skills in thinking, interpretation, and evaluation.

In sum, joining a faculty is far closer to serving on a jury than taking a cruise. And we owe it to our community to make every effort to replace ignorance and prejudice with understanding and reason. Such is a college teacher’s mission, and we should be prepared to take pains to try to fulfill it.


[1] Plato, Protagoras, trans. Stanley Lombardo and Karen Bell (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 1992), 314b.

Steven M. Cahn

Steven M Cahn is Professor Emeritus of Philosophy at the City University of New York Graduate Center. Among the recent books he has authored are Teaching Philosophy: A Guide (Routledge, 2018); Inside Academia: Professors, Politics, and Policies (Rutgers, 2019); Navigating Academic Life: How the System Works (Routledge, 2021); Professors as Teachers (Wipf and Stock, 2022), and, most recently, From Student to Scholar: A Candid Guide to Becoming a Professor, Second Edition (Wipf and Stock, 2024).     

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