Teaching

I know, I think too much about teaching, even after 42 years of it.  But I was reminded yet again of it with a pamphlet I received the other day.  It is an essay about one of my Amherst professors, particularly his leadership [as department head] of...one of the core courses in the College's Curriculum." 

I knew Professor Moore only in passing, having attended several of his lectures on the humanities.  Although I was hardly the best of the best students, I think I realized just how good he was then.  I also realized that of many of my other professors.  But, the longer I have taught, the greater my realization of just how good they were.

I recalled how many of my students would tell me, often frustrated, "Just give us the answer!"  In fact, several of my former students have since also noted that.  "You never just gave us the answer."  As I read about Professor Moore, I realized how important to an education that is.  And, how difficult it is.  Professors (teachers) are too often intent on sharing their knowledge, their expertise, with students.  But it's hard for them (us) to "check our acadmic robes at the door," that is, to suppress our academic egos.  Professor Moore insisted that professors (teachers) must rid themselves of the notion that they are scholars first and teachers second, especially when entering classrooms.

Of course, lecturing or "giving us the answer" is sometimes, often even, necessary.  He wrote, "To develop points in discussion might well take forever," especially with students who've never read the required assignments or, if they have, only read them and didn't think about them.  (I plead guilty, too.)  But, as he notes, we've often given ourselves only a short time to teach--a day, an hour, even a term.  "I don't think this is a bad thing to do once in a while...and a single day of it can hardly hurt them [students]."  I laughed, though, at the thought that, for a "conscientious" teacher, a single class can seem "like an awkward race against the clock."  There is never enough to do more than merely scratch the surface.  How often do I look up and find my current class periods are over--and we've just begun!  (Surely my students feel otherwise!)

There's more, much more, in this pamphlet.  For instance, Professor Moore notes, Ancient Greek literature (tragedies and poems) are "as full of ideas as a well-peppered St. Sebastian is full of arrows."  (Oh, how a broad and deep education helps!)  Students, if not at the moment, appreciate connections, connections between different eras, between different peoples, between past and present.

My classmate has done a great service in writing this pamphlet, reintroducing us to Professor Moore and, I'd submit, the memories of our other great Amherst teachers.  One of the reading requirements for all teachers, regardless of discipline or level, should be the book Teaching:  What We Do, about a dozen essays by Amherst professors of years past.  These essays give detailed plans for the organization and implementation of lessons in a variety of areas. 

This essay on Professor Moore is a great reminder for me to continue to appreciate the many great, great teachers I had at Amherst.