As one who has urged graduate departments to offer their students a practicum in teaching, I read with interest Heather Brant’s thoughtful post A Graduate Seminar With a Unique Topic: Teacher Training, published this spring.
She describes a course she took that explored how insights from cognitive science and related areas could enhance understanding of teaching. Among the topics discussed were cognitive load theory, knowledge organization, and spaced retrieval practice. While I am not familiar with any of these terms, I presume they refer to aspects of learning.
Although the seminar encouraged her to consider how to design courses and plan classes, it apparently omitted what should have been a focus: namely, practice teaching. While analyzing elements of instruction can be useful, the crucial step in improving performance is classroom presentations, although they may be brief, and other participants may serve as the audience.
If you want to learn to play the piano, you might find of interest the history of the piano, the mechanics of a modern piano, or the development of piano literature, but the essential step is trying to play the piano. Typically, you take lessons, practice, take more lessons, and continue practicing. Reading books, attending lectures, or participating in discussions will not suffice.
Similarly, if you want to learn to teach effectively you may peruse articles, take part in conferences, or join study groups, but the essential step is practice with guidance and feedback. At one point in Heather Brant’s post, she expresses relief that she was learning to teach without “having to struggle in front of an actual class.” Unfortunately, as in the case of improving as a pianist, struggle is unavoidable.
For many years in the Philosophy Program at the City University of New York Graduate Center, I taught a practicum on teaching. While some class time was spent exploring ethical obligations and pedagogic principles, as well as strategies for testing and grading, most of the hours were devoted to practice. Each of the approximately fifteen students gave a series of five- to ten-minute presentations, intended as opening remarks for an introductory class, after which the speaker received immediate feedback from the other students, then from me.
At first, most participants were unsure of themselves as they stood before the audience. They mumbled, talked too fast, relied on oral 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. They made little attempt to interest their listeners in the subject and offered few, if any, clarifying examples. They asked questions without giving any student the opportunity to answer. They used technical terms without explaining them and introduced ideas without proper foundation. Overall, the speakers lacked energy.
But whereas most instructors who display such shortcomings are rarely, if ever, called to account, in our practicum weak presentations were met with constructive suggestions. These soon resulted in notable improvements. The students began to speak more slowly, motivate their audience, organize, and clarify their remarks, and avoid the most common classroom pitfalls. Lecturers 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.
Those who displayed marked improvement received generous plaudits from the others, and the developing spirit de corps encouraged all to try to enhance their performance. Admittedly, poor teachers were not turned into great ones, but those who were inaudible, unclear, or disorganized became audible, clearer, and better organized.
Perhaps I can convey most effectively what we accomplished by quoting a sampling of written comments offered by members of the class, each remark condensed but using the exact words of a respondent. (I am especially grateful to Jordan Pascoe, now a professor at Manhattan College, for many of these perceptive observations.)
- Way too many “OKs.” Too much looking at the board. No attempt at motivation. Many opportunities for discussion passed over. Though you asked us to raise our hands if we had a comment, there didn’t seem to be any opportunities to do so.
- Became much more comfortable toward the end, warmed up, relaxed. You became able to use emphasis and tone to create drama, suspense, and interest. Nice, personable manner, and slow, clear pace.
- Don’t look at the board like you’re expecting it to do something. Make sure you’re making eye-contact with us. Your tone is calm and reassuring. Great use of example to build the point. You use the class and their answers well. It became a fun discussion.
- There’s no motivation, no gateway into the issue. Way too attached to notes. Put them down. We desperately need examples. There’s too much terminology tossed about, and nothing relevant or playful to tie it down. The main thrust of your attention is the board. Make the students your primary concern.
- Considerably more comfortable and casual than in previous presentations. Good use of humor to engage audience. Much better job of making eye-contact and connecting with the class. A lot of information is covered a little too quickly. It would be a good idea to use the board to set up and outline and keep track of key terms. But overall, so much better.
Granted, the procedure can be nerve-racking, but virtually all the students welcomed the guidance offered and appreciated their newly-found skills. They also gained the confidence that comes from knowing what you are doing.
In sum, teaching can be improved, but reading or discussing studies of effective instruction won’t suffice. The key is standing in front of a group, trying to explain a subject, receiving constructive feedback, then trying again. The process is challenging, but guiding students to master a subject while arousing appreciation for it is hard. Only those who have never tried might think otherwise.
Steven M. Cahn
Steven M. Cahn is Professor Emeritus of Philosophy at the Graduate Center of the City University of New York. The most recent books he has authored are Religion Within Reason (Columbia University Press, 2017); Teaching Philosophy: A Guide (Routledge, 2018); Inside Academia: Professors, Politics, and Policies (Rutgers University Press, 2019); The Road Traveled and Other Essays (Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2019); Philosophical Adventures (Broadview Press, 2019); A Philosopher’s Journey: Essays from Six Decades (Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2020), and Navigating Academic Life (Routledge, 2021).
