Learning to Teach

Just as graduate faculty aid doctoral students in strengthening their research efforts, so the faculty should provide students with assistance in enhancing their teaching skills.

For nearly a decade in the Philosophy Program at the City University of New York Graduate Center, I offered a fourteen week, credit-bearing course titled “Teaching Philosophy.” The goal was to prepare new or inexperienced teachers to offer effective instruction for undergraduates.   While some class time was spent discussing ethical obligations and pedagogic principles, as well as issues surrounding testing, grading, and constructing a syllabus, most of the hours were devoted to practice.

Each of the approximately fifteen students gave a series of ten-minute presentations intended for an introductory class, after which the speaker received immediate feedback, first from the other students, then from me. If, during the talk, someone did not understand the speaker, that listener was expected to raise a hand, thereby requesting further explanation.

At first, most of the participants were nervous as they stood before the audience. They mumbled, talked too fast, relied on verbal tics such as “y’know,” “right,” or “OK,”  laughed self-consciously, and stared at the ceiling, the chalkboard, or their notes, avoiding eye contact with those they were supposed to be addressing. The speakers made little attempt to interest their listeners in the subject and offered few, if any, clarifying examples. Questions were posed without giving students the opportunity to answer, technical terms were used without explaining them, and ideas were introduced before laying proper foundation, thus provoking numerous raised hands. Overall, the presenters lacked energy.  In short, they displayed all the pedagogical shortcomings that turn too many classrooms into scenes of confusion and apathy.

But whereas most instructors who communicate inadequately are never called to account, in our practicum weak presentations brought forth a series of constructive suggestions to avoid pedagogic weaknesses. Not only did these help the speaker, but they reinforced for all participants the elements of successful instruction.

As a result of these efforts, noticeable improvements occurred. The students began to speak more slowly, motivate their audience, organize and clarify their presentations, and avoid the most common classroom pitfalls. Speakers exhibited greater energy, and some whose initial stage fright had made them seem somber or remote turned out, after becoming more at ease, to be engaging and even humorous.

Presenters who displayed marked improvement received generous plaudits from the others, and the developing esprit de corps encouraged all to try to enhance their performance. Before long, the talks became quite compelling, and even the few students who continued to struggle were conscious of the steps needed to improve.

Over the years I learned that students who excelled at teaching were likely to have had a background in some variety of public performance. Among the standouts were a former ballet dance, a trumpeter, and a magician, all of whom had learned how to hold the attention of an audience.

But even many of those who lacked such an advantage made major strides. One who began timorously told me later that when at his school peer evaluators observed his teaching, he received high praise for the slow pace at which he spoke and the clarity of his explanations. In another case, a student who struggled throughout the course informed me recently that he had continued to work on lessons he had learned and was pleased to say that at the college where he taught he had just been awarded a prize for excellence in teaching.

Note that while talking about teaching has its place, a crucial step to improvement is practice followed by constructive criticism. No one has ever become a pianist, tennis player, or bicyclist just by listening to lectures or participating in discussions. Performance is required, as it is for the enhancement of teaching.

Granted, only rarely can a course turn a poor teacher into a great one. If taken, however, during those formative years of graduate study when individuals are most likely to welcome help, the advice provided can turn inaudible, unclear, or disorganized speakers into audible, clear, and organized ones. Most important, it can turn thoughtless teachers into thoughtful ones, a crucial step on the path to greater success in the classroom.

A final note. Once the course was put in place, departmental chairs at the undergraduate institutions where our students went to teach reported how well they were performing and urged continued efforts to enhance the pedagogical skills of future instructors. Unfortunately, though, after my retirement the course was abandoned due to lack of support from faculty who believed that time spent improving teaching was better spent increasing research productivity. Yet given the success of the practicum, I would urge every doctoral program to consider offering such guidance to graduate students.