Teaching Philosophy

Passion. Energy. Enthusiasm. Sincerity. Respect.

I love history, and I love my job. I get paid to read about, think about, write about, and talk about things that fascinate me. Perhaps it’s possible for someone to be a good teacher without loving what they do, but it wouldn’t be possible for me. I don’t love mathematics, but I was always good at it. I can explain mathematical principles to someone, but they probably wouldn’t enjoy the experience, and neither would I.

My teaching relies heavily on passion. Energy is key. Enthusiasm must be palpable. Students quickly recognize insincerity, and insincerity is almost always conversation stopper. A lack of effort on my part reflects a lack of respect for my students and for education in general. If I don’t care about what I’m saying, why should they?

One of the first things I do in all my classes is talk about the importance of history, and the message I repeat that day and throughout the semester is that history is the study of “who we are and why we are the way we are.” In other words, history is “the story of us.” It’s the story of how we got to now. It’s the story of where we’ve been, and it’s the story of where we’re going. And it’s the story of why. As one of my former mentors loved to say, history is the mother of all disciplines, and it is the glue that makes interdisciplinary thought possible. In other words, history is supremely relevant.

As a Department Chair, I talk to young instructors all the time, and I’m often asked for advice on how someone can become a good teacher, or at least a better teacher. Most of the time these individuals are hoping for practical tips that can be easily employed – something along the lines of: “Divide the classroom into small groups and then let them debate and report on a specific question” – or – “Facilitate discussions on a reading assignment” – or – “Get a cordless microphone and never stand in one place.” Specific strategies like these may work, and they may even work well. I’ve used each of these tactics before, and will probably use them again. But in my opinion, the key to effective teaching has nothing to do with the functional administration of a physical classroom environment. The key to effective teaching is figuring out what your specific passions are, and then embracing those passions in a style that is easiest and most natural for you.

I enjoy teaching a wide range of courses, but I’m most comfortable in large surveys, typically with 250 to 400 students in the room. And I really love teaching students who claim they don’t like history. I see it as a challenge, and I’m proud to say that I’ve managed to convert more than my fair share of students into lifelong history lovers. For me, these large courses also provide an opportunity to embrace a natural strength of mine – that being the delivery of a traditional lecture on a big stage. I’m fairly effective on a big stage. My voice carries well, even without a microphone. I know how to pace myself. I know when to slow down, and I know when to speed up. I know when to repeat myself, or rephrase something. I know when students are tracking with me, and I know when they aren’t. I know when it’s time to stop a lecture early, and I know when it’s time to press forward. And I know how to create a visually engaging and helpful power point to accompany what I’m saying. The traditional lecture may not be the trendiest teaching strategy in the world, but for me, it remains the most effective.

That said, the important thing is not that I give lectures, it’s that I figured out what I’m good at, and I embraced it. I don’t try to be something I’m not. I don’t manufacture classroom activities that I don’t believe in. I don’t force situations that aren’t working, or that I’m not sincerely confident will help students understand something more effectively. I am who I am, and my advice to young instructors is to figure out who they are, and to embrace it – passionately, enthusiastically, and with dedicated energy. Good lecturers should lecture. Good discussion facilitators should facilitate. Good teachers must be comfortable in their own skin.

Just as I can’t be something I’m not, I can’t force a student to become someone they’re not. We are all unique. We are all gifted in different ways, with varying strengths and weaknesses. What works for me may not work for everyone, just as what I do in the classroom may connect with some students, but not others. I cannot be everything to everyone, but I can always invest the time and energy to connect with my students in different ways both in and out of the classroom.

Ultimately, I respect my students by trying to meet them where they are, and I foster mutual respect by treating the learning experience as an ongoing relationship. Good teachers are always on duty. I cannot be everything to everyone, but I can – and must – ensure that no student – regardless of their learning style, or my teaching style – ever feels forgotten. I don’t think it’s possible to be a good teacher without fostering an underlying compassion for people, and compassion for someone presupposes respect. We must respect our students, and we must respect the responsibility we have to educate.

At the end of the day, good teaching requires a willingness to invest significant time into human lives. It saddens me when I hear colleagues describe their students as burdens. If we’re not here to teach, why are we here at all? What good does our research do if we can’t connect that research to future generations?

Students should never be viewed as or spoken of as a burden. Teaching should always be exciting, never drudgery. The educational experience should be respected and embraced, just as students must respect their instructor, and instructors must respect their students. Passion, energy, enthusiasm, sincerity, and respect are fundamental to any good educational experience. Good teachers carry these themes with them at all times, in and out of the classroom.

I still get butterflies on the first day of every semester, not because I lack experience or confidence in the classroom, or with my teaching style, but because students still matter to me. Education matters. Regardless of whether my students become lifelong lovers of history or not, I sincerely hope that all my students have felt challenged, encouraged, and respected. So at the end of the day, I suppose my teaching philosophy – and the advice I would give to other teachers – is pretty simple: care about your students, care about your craft, value education, and embrace every opportunity to change lives for the better.