{"id":5018,"date":"2019-10-02T08:00:17","date_gmt":"2019-10-02T13:00:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/braindevs.net\/blog\/blog\/?p=5018"},"modified":"2019-10-01T19:02:07","modified_gmt":"2019-10-02T00:02:07","slug":"in-defense-of-other-than-passionate-teaching","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.learningandthebrain.com\/blog\/in-defense-of-other-than-passionate-teaching\/","title":{"rendered":"In Defense of Other-Than-Passionate Teaching"},"content":{"rendered":"

I\u2019m reading Tom Sherrington\u2019s The Learning Rainforest: Great Teaching<\/em> in Real Classrooms<\/em> as I travel. Like many of his readers, I\u2019m spending most of my time thinking a) that\u2019s splendidly put, and b) why did it take me so long to start reading this book? It\u2019s been on my \u201cmust read\u201d shelf forever\u2026<\/p>\n

In brief, I heartily recommend it.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Sherrington opens the second section of Learning Rainforest <\/em>with a plea for passionate teaching<\/em>:<\/p>\n

\u201cTeach the things that get you excited about your subject. Read that special poem that gets you fired up, show that fascinating maths puzzle with the neat solution, enthuse about the extraordinary story, or talk about that cool exploding watermelon video.\u201d (Yes: Sherrington is British, so he writes \u201cmaths\u201d not \u201cmath.\u201d)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Much of me wants to agree with this advice. Certainly I try to follow this guidance in my own teaching.<\/p>\n

In the classroom, I regularly taught \u201cdifficult\u201d texts\u2014from Woolf to Morrison to Hopkins\u2014because they move me so much. (Hopkins\u2019s line \u201cthe just man justices\u201d still makes shiver. Who knew \u201cjustice\u201d could be a verb?)<\/p>\n

And now that I do PD work with teachers, I\u2019m always grateful to get feedback about my enthusiasm and verve.<\/p>\n

In brief, I try to practice what Sherrington is preaching.<\/p>\n

And Yet\u2026<\/h2>\n

As I think about this advice, though, I can practice<\/em> it but not endorse<\/em> it.<\/p>\n

Here\u2019s why:<\/p>\n

I think most teachers do our best work when we enter the classroom as our authentic selves.<\/p>\n

That is: some teachers are indeed funny<\/strong>. They enliven their classes and their subject matter with puckish wit.<\/p>\n

However, many people just aren\u2019t funny<\/em>. If I try to make my teaching funny because funny works for you, the falsity of that performance may well have dreadful results.<\/p>\n

Other teachers have, say, a den-mothery warmth<\/strong>. They can soothe and comfort, and bathe their classrooms with gentle balm.<\/p>\n

But: those of us who aren\u2019t naturally soothing might not be able to pull off that act. The pretense would be more disconcerting than calming.<\/p>\n

Still other teachers, as Sherrington suggests, are passionate, enthusiastic, and entertaining<\/strong>. Like Robin Williams in The Dead Poets\u2019 Society<\/em>, they leap about on desks and declaim in Laurence Olivier voices.<\/p>\n

Like Sherrington (I imagine), they love showing videos of exploding watermelons. They \u201cget fired up.\u201d They \u201centhuse.\u201d<\/p>\n

And yet, again: some teachers just aren\u2019t like that<\/em>. Arm waving and zealous emotion simply doesn\u2019t come naturally. As before, faking a teaching style that isn\u2019t my own could backfire disastrously. The only thing worse that fake-funny is fake-enthusiastic.<\/p>\n

An Example<\/h2>\n

In graduate school, one of my best professors taught with an almost studied blandness.<\/p>\n

He sat at his desk, looking up occasionally from his notes. While he didn\u2019t read directly from them, he was clearly tracking his outline closely. (We could tell, because his text-only PowerPoint slides often matched what he said, word-for-word.)<\/p>\n

He rarely modulated his voice, and never (that I recall) cracked a joke.<\/p>\n

And yet, he was fascinating<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Here\u2019s why. First, he had a knack for explaining complex ideas with clarity and rigor. Even the most opaque topics seemed conspicuously clear once he\u2019d explained them.<\/p>\n

Second, he had a technique for answering questions that I\u2019ve never seen before.<\/p>\n

A student might ask: \u201cWhat do we know about the impact of music lessons on very young children?\u201d<\/p>\n

He\u2019d think for a minute, and then say:<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, you\u2019re asking if anyone has done a study where one group of three-year-old children had music lessons, and another group spent the same amount of time on an equally active task\u2014maybe dance<\/em> lessons.<\/p>\n

And then, when we tested them on\u2014let\u2019s say\u2014verbal fluency six months later, did those music lessons make any difference?<\/p>\n

That\u2019s an interesting question, and as far as I know, no one has done that study\u2026\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

In other words: he didn\u2019t so much answer <\/strong>the question as describe how it might be answered by psychology research<\/strong>. (Of course, if such a study had been done, he\u2019d tell us about it.)<\/p>\n

After about a month, the questions in class started changing.<\/p>\n

My classmates would raise their hands and ask, \u201cHas anyone ever done a study where one group of six-year-olds told stories they made up<\/em>, while another group read someone else\u2019s story aloud<\/em>\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

That is: we learned from this professor not only about various psychology topics, but also how to investigate psychology in the first place.<\/p>\n

And, to repeat: there was nothing remotely enthusiastic<\/em> about this class. And yet, this method was remarkably effective, and surprisingly compelling. I always looked forward to his lectures.<\/p>\n

In truth, I can think of many excellent teachers whom you\u2019d never describe as \u201cpassionate.\u201d<\/p>\n

Two Theories<\/h2>\n

So, if I can\u2019t quite champion excitement<\/em> as an essential teaching strategy, what would I offer in its stead?<\/p>\n

As noted above, I think the first key is authenticity<\/em>.<\/p>\n

If you\u2019re a funny teacher, be funny. If you\u2019re awe-struck and enthusiastic, own that. But if you\u2019re not, don\u2019t try to fake it<\/em>. Be yourself in the classroom, not a pretend version of another teacher.<\/p>\n

The second key: aligning that authenticity with the deep purposes of education<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Here\u2019s what I mean.<\/p>\n

I think I\u2019d be a terrible lawyer because, at my core, I hate conflict. My ethical obligation to advocate zealously on my client\u2019s behalf would run smack into my deep desire for everyone to get along.<\/p>\n

That is: my authentic self doesn\u2019t really align with the deep purpose of lawyering.<\/p>\n

However: teacherly enthusiasm certainly can align with our teacherly goals. We want students to love what they learn, and enthusiasm can go a long way to help them do so.<\/p>\n

So too a sense of humor.<\/p>\n

A den-mother\u2019s warmth, likewise, might help students face academic rigors that would otherwise stress them out.<\/p>\n

And, my professor\u2019s deepest interest\u2014his fascination with the design of psychology studies\u2014lined up beautifully with his teaching goals. He wasn\u2019t enthusiastic. But his authentic self absolutely helped us learn.<\/p>\n

In Sum<\/h2>\n

Should you be worried if your teaching isn\u2019t passionate? Not necessarily.<\/p>\n

Should you worry if you\u2019re not classroom-funny? Nope.<\/p>\n

Do you need to answer all questions with hypothetical research designs? Heck no.<\/p>\n

Should you worry if your authentic self doesn\u2019t foster student growth and learning?<\/p>\n

Absolutely.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

You might hear advice that you have to be passionate to succeed as a teacher. While passion might be good, authenticity will be even better.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":18,"featured_media":5020,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[15],"class_list":["post-5018","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-lb-blog","tag-classroom-advice"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.learningandthebrain.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5018","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.learningandthebrain.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.learningandthebrain.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.learningandthebrain.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/18"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.learningandthebrain.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5018"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/www.learningandthebrain.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5018\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5025,"href":"https:\/\/www.learningandthebrain.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5018\/revisions\/5025"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.learningandthebrain.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5020"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.learningandthebrain.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5018"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.learningandthebrain.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5018"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.learningandthebrain.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5018"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}