Tuesday, March 8, 2011

On Engaging with Students (Alive, and, Sadly, Dead): an Early Thirsty

I just learned that one of my students died last week. Even after going back over what he’d written on the class discussion board, and trying to decipher my scribbled notes about key physical characteristics on the roll, I can’t form a mental picture of him. It’s a hybrid class that meets in person only once a week in a badly-configured room, remembering faces isn’t one of my strengths, and he missed a couple of class meetings (and may have worn a baseball cap to some of the ones he did attend; everything I’ve got suggests that, physically, he was a pretty generic young white guy). I’ve got a sense of what corner of the room he usually occupied when present, and I’m pretty sure we had a single one-on-one, face-to-face conversation about his research project, but that’s it.

On the other hand, reading through his work, I remember his project clearly, and remember having, and once again have, a strong sense of him as a developing thinker (I know he wanted to do graduate work in his field, and it looks to me like he was well on his way to being qualified for that). The quality of his work, and the fact that he’ll never get the chance to develop his talents further, makes me even sadder than I would otherwise be that he is dead (no matter the circumstances – and I don’t know them – the death of a 20-something always has an element of tragedy). In short, I can’t claim to have connected with him “as a person,” in the sense that that term is most often used, but I do think that I was connecting to some extent with him – through my assignments and his responses to them, online exchanges, and that one conversation – as a developing mind.

This tends to be a pattern with me. I can’t always remember my students’ research projects when the students appear in front of me, or when their names appear on an email, but, as soon I see or hear a few key words about the project, I can remember all of our previous exchanges, and pick up the conversation smoothly. And, whether we’ve been working together to refine an already-promising idea or struggling to put together one that meets the basic requirements for the assignment, I value and enjoy those exchanges (the ones where a student resists struggling or meeting assignment requirements are another matter; I don’t enjoy them, but I’m pretty good at patiently and, if need be, repeatedly reiterating firm boundaries until the student is forced to either start struggling or give up and disappear or drop – which happens infrequently, but still more than I’d like).

This kind of connection doesn’t match up with many people’s ideal of the professor/student relationship, or with studies suggesting that students learn better when they (feel?) they have a personal relationship with their professors. But I have to say that I feel reasonably satisfied with it, and I don’t think that’s only because it fits my own talents (and deficits). Engaging primarily with students’ ideas seems like an appropriate approach for a college professor (and it’s not like I reject mentions of other parts of their lives; it’s just that I don’t feel a need to exchange such information). I sometimes wonder whether it means I’m best suited to teach in the online environment, but I think I’m pretty effective in the traditional classroom as well, especially when I can build in – as I do – opportunities for one-on-one interactions. And, of course, I wonder what effect my particular way of connecting with students has on their course evaluations.

So, with that long preface:

Q What do you think of the idea of engaging with students “as minds” rather than “as people”? Or isn’t this really an either/or? Might the former be a variation on or subset of the latter? Is there something missing in a teacher/student relationship that doesn’t have an element of the personal? And am I a terrible teacher – or person – for having a clearer recollection of this young man’s work than of his person?

5 comments:

  1. I think engaging with students "as minds" is completely respectful and appropriate. That will include some, but not all, elements of the personal: a mind will show, as the person writes and speaks analytically, a sense of humor, a passionate commitment, a hope or dream, or a limitation, any of which are also part of the person. I think of it this way: I don't expect my gastroenterologist, my accountant, my lawyer, or my therapist to deal with me as a "whole person." My doctor doesn't need to know about my personal debt troubles, my lawyer about my nightmares, my accountant about my allergies, my therapist about my tax exemption status. While discussing what's appropriate to each of these relationships, each of us might crack a joke or reveal a human side, but it is not, in any way, a scene of total intimacy -- yet my digestion, my legal issues, my money issues, and my mental health each get taken care of.

    As to your dead student: his parents likely did not have a clear sense of his work, even as they may have known many things about him that you don't. No relationship is total. It's good that you knew this part of him, and I'm sure that if you contacted his parents they'd be glad to learn just that little bit more about their son.

    ReplyDelete
  2. It is, I think, the only appropriate way to know your students.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I'm sorry to hear about your student's death, even if you never did know him well. No, you are not a bad teacher for never having gotten to know him personally. How many other students were in the class, anyway?

    Engaging with students "as minds" is really the only approach that is even humanly possible. I was once at a university where the students very much reminded me of the young me, and I was personally involved with nearly every aspect of their lives. This made me popular, but after a couple years, it left me utterly, utterly exhausted, physically and especially emotionally. You really can't, and shouldn't, be a "Mom" or a "Dad" for college students. It's counterproductive to their education, a major part of which in college should be preparing them for life as independent adults. It can also be outright creepy: witness the flap with Kalamazoo Katie.

    ReplyDelete
  4. P.S. I can remember being a student, in the '70s-'80s, and I'd resent some old fart trying to get involved in my life, when all I was in the class for was for them to get involved in my work. That kind of thinking seems to have changed for today's undergraduates, however: they seem so immature, these days.

    ReplyDelete
  5. @Frod: there are just under 25 in the class (the exact number might be identifying), so it is, by most definitions, "small" -- but I have four of them, and have been teaching 4 sections, often of the same class, and often in the same few rooms, for over a decade, so there is a certain blurring/overwhelming effect.

    Thanks to all for their replies. The more I think about it, the more I'm comfortable with this way of connecting with students. At the same time, I'm aware that my approach -- including the parts of my job from which I get the most pleasure -- is different from that of my more "Mom" and "Dad"-like colleagues -- especially the "Mom"-like ones, which of course isn't an inevitable role for female faculty, but certainly is one of the most available paradigms.

    ReplyDelete

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.