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Profs Are People, Too: Hacking the Classroom Bringing In the Personal

October 17, 2011, 11:00 am

The other day I was talking to a friend who is in the process of finishing her dissertation. She was describing how she had to push through writing her final chapter. The ideas just weren’t coming—but she’s on a deadline and so she wrote anyway. And, after pages of jumbled and unconvincing argument, she began to understand what she was writing. The ideas came, the argument cohered. She just had to get words on paper until the ideas followed. My colleague’s experience reflects many of the ideas we’ve discussed before on ProfHacker—particularly Billie’s posts on writing, which always provide valuable tips for getting (writing) stuff done.

As my colleague related this story, however, I had another thought. “You need to share this story with your students,” I advised. My colleague teaches several writing intensive courses, and students in those courses (many of them first years) often struggle to develop good writing habits for college work. “They’d benefit from hearing that you sometimes struggle with writing,” I said, “and that you work through the same processes you recommend for them.” My hope was that, by seeing their professor as a fellow writer—and a fellow student—struggling undergraduate writers might begin to see writing as a life-long skill they must practice rather than a hurdle for this one writing-intensive class.

There are times when a professor can hack the classroom by giving students a small peek into their more personal lives. There are limits, of course, and we’ve all known teachers who share far too much personal information—whose classes are all about them, rather than about the students. But small moments of personal reflection can shift a class’ focus, and help students realize how what they’re learning might apply to their larger lives. In short, occasionally reminding students that professors are people, too, might help them realize that professors’ passions are passions they might share.

A few days after this exchange with my colleague, I heard the very sad news that one of my graduate school mentors had passed away quite suddenly. I was supposed to teach chapters from one of his books in both of my classes the next next day. I was a bit surprised how emotional I felt going into each of those classes—the book, after all, wasn’t him, and I teach it frequently. So I decided to own my emotions. I started my classes by sharing the news of my mentor’s passing, and relating briefly how much he had influenced my own professional and pedagogical development. I talked about his passion for writing. And when we discussed his book, my students responded with a passion of their own. Discussions in both classes were lively and productive.

I can’t say definitively that opening up about my emotions charged the classroom discussion. But I suspect that seeing their teacher as someone else’s student did help my students think about their classes in a new way—as nodes in a larger network of scholars. I hope that some of them realized that they will carry his ideas to new audiences.

How about you? When do you bring the personal into the classroom (or do you avoid doing so)? How does it change the tone or content of your classes? Tell us about it in the comments.

[Creative Commons licensed photo by Flickr user pasukaru76.]

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  • http://sarahwerner.net Sarah Werner

    I very consciously talk about my kids in class. Not general child-rearing stories, but ones that connect to what we’re discussing: the experience of learning to read in my book history seminar, for instance. It used to make me feel uncomfortable–I was worried that being seen as a mom would get in the way of their seeing me as a professor. But I decided that they needed to be able to see me as both, for their own futures. Especially because my classes are overwhelmingly female, I want to role model the possibility of having a job and a family and an intellectual life. (When I was a college student in the 1980s, none of my favorite profs were both married and parents; it was one or the other. It was disheartening.)

  • carolrutz

    Ryan, I did much the same thing the day after your mentor died–and my students seemed aware, maybe for the first time, that the textbook they were carrying around represented a real person’s work and, moreover, that person’s influence on me and them.  Not what I expected,but quite affirming.

  • kosboot

    In one of the early chapters of Julia Cameron’s “The Artist’s Way” she proscribes having a set time every day where one writes for an hour.  She’s really inspirational in how she describes the possibilities that can happen when one treats writing not as a chore but as a discipline, where over the course of time, ideas become easier to express.  

    I was never a big writer, and at times my dissertation felt like agony.  But after a while I also got into the groove that Cameron talks about.  It’s just too bad that the discipline of frequent and regular writing is not inculcated at an earlier age, or at least at the outset of one’s undergraduate career.

  • Catherine Anderson

    One of my classes is Child Language Acquisition so pictures and videos of my kids doing the relevant language things feature prominently!  My students love it and it helps them remember the material better if they can remember the video of my daughter starting to babble or my son “reading” a story with no words but lively intonation.  I also just talk about the scholars whose work we’re discussing as people — who studied with whom, who’s married to whom, a funny story someone told at a conference.  I like to think it helps the students see the scholars as real people, as @chronicle-e6d76b26416ca5de309d8fd741894447:disqus described.

  • wuqwe

     was never a big writer, and at times my dissertation felt like agony. But after a while I also got into the groove that Camero bvlgari
    diagono. It’s just too bad that the discipline of frequent and regular writing is not inculcated at an earlier age, or at least at the outset of one’s undergraduate career

  • sherbygirl

    My kids, my swimming, my blogging, my research (I teach writing, my research is in literature). They know I write and tweet. It seems to help bring down the wall between us (and the intimidation factor when it comes to their own writing). 

  • Guest

    I never gave this much thought, to be honest. You spend 3 hours a week together and sometimes there just isn’t enough serious material to fill the time — or you can see the students starting to get bored. So I break it up with light-hearted fare. I think it’s fine to be personal. 

  • http://roberthackerbooks.com/ Robert Hacker

    I think personal comments often lead to more discussions of practical approaches in class, which the students value as a change from discussions of pure theory.

  • tenured_radical

    Sometimes in a couple pages of an article that was in copy edit and projected it up on the screen for them to demonstrate how, after probably 7-8 revisions, there were still so many things to attend to.  It always causes them to relax and be more open about discussing revision.

  • electronicmuse

    Nice article. Providing a peek into one’s “personal” life, as long as it actually is related-even tangentially, to one’s “professional” life, is useful in the classroom. Divulging truly personal information is an invitation for students to do the same, and you’re likely to get “more information than I need” from any number of students. Unless you’re really willing to start playing therapist-solving their personal problerms, best not to open that door. I’ve tried it both ways, and advise discretion in this area.

    Sufficient that you let your students know that “all of us” grapple with the same things and thoughts in our (professional) aspirations.

  • http://stevenlberg.wordpress.com/ Steven L. Berg

    “They’d benefit from hearing that you sometimes struggle with writing,”

    I write an essay about one a week and post it to my teaching blog.  Recently, I shared the 1,500+ word draft of “Measuring Learning by the Numbers” with students.  The tone was pathetic, self-indulgent, and whiney.  I asked students how they would fix it before sharing the just under 600 word final version.  Many students found it hard to believe that I could draft something so poorly.  Others were surprised because they thought they were poor writers because they wrote long drafts and then edited them into something reasonable.  It was an especially good lesson.

    I also share other examples/stories from my life that help students learn about professionalism, time management and so forth.  I find students relate to the stories.

    Steven L. Berg

    “Measuring Learning by the Numbers”
    http://stevenlberg.wordpress.com/2011/09/25/a-3/

  • alf11

    The first time I taught writing to first year students, I brought in an essay I had written in my first year of university, with no name, and asked students to critique and edit.  They were brutally honest, and one student guessed the author was me.  The students were shocked, reassured, and amused.  It was a great teaching tool.

    I now teach US history, and often use stories from my own family’s history to make the ‘big’ events of the past seem more real.  For example, I talk about what my grandparents in Oregon did when Japanese neighbors were put in detention.  That real people made real choices, or had limited choices, in how to respond to major historical events.  I think students appreciate it, but it also shows them they have similar obligations to think about their own response to major events.

  • slstalter

    I agree with all the examples; showing writing as a process and modeling the possible life of a professor are among my strategies too. One warning, though: the non-writing-related personal anecdotes will be the ones that stick in students’ heads long after the class ends.

  • proftowanda

    I have shared with seminar students my struggles in research, writing, and especially in rewriting — after, as I also share, my first rejection letter for my first scholarly article submission.  I especially share that I really was not ready to grasp the editor’s criticisms and suggestions for another year, until I had studied and learned more.  Then, when I came across the letter again, it made sense, and I saw the wisdom in the very thoughtful rejection letter.  So I did the revisions, resubmitted, and got more than publication:  I got a good education from that editor, and without the cost of tuition!

    Unfortunately, that article and my work since have been much-plagiarized. 

    So I also share with students, when warning about plagiarism, how it feels.  Apparently, according to my evals, I get rather passionate about the pain of being robbed of my years of hard work.  Students tell me that they never realized, amid all of the rational discussions and statements about plagiarism on syllabi and in class, that stealing ideas, words, and work hurts someone.

    Try it; it works.  I have seen more hard work and more honest work from students.

  • http://ryan.cordells.us Ryan Cordell

    I love that idea, Carol–I’m sure the authors of textbooks don’t usually seem like real people to students. Our students don’t often know quite what professors *do.* Letting them see scholars’ books as parts of larger conversations between real people–that is affirming, as you say.

  • http://ryan.cordells.us Ryan Cordell

    I’ve never shared an article in progress–though I may try it now. I have shared a conference abstract, though, as well as some reviewer comments. Students were blown away by how vicious the comments in one review were–I think they assumed professors were past all that! I think it helped them to see that we’re always improving our writing and argumentation; they’re not skills one gains in an instant.

  • Gregory_Sadler

    I routinely bring personal experiences, lessons, and reflections into my classes, and encourage my students to do likewise.  Of course, I teach Philosophy and Religious Studies classes, so that personal, experiential, reflexive dimension ought to be present — just out of fidelity to some of the material I teach.

    I started doing this in my first full-time position, teaching in a maximum security prison — where we were advised, actually, to keep things impersonal. I found that what I was naturally inclined to do opened matters up for my students, both and out of the classroom. So, I continued it — and sometimes even share the experiences of my former students with current students.

    If you’d like to see how I integrate course concepts with my own and my students’ experiences, here’s some course videos: http://gbsadler.blogspot.com/p/videos-of-class-lectures.html

  • crankycat

    I am a scientist with serious creative pursuits outside work. At some point in a semester I usually show the students that. I let them know how, for me, the two sides inform each other. 

  • http://stevenlberg.wordpress.com/ Steven L. Berg

    Earlier today, after mentioning the difficulty I had in coming up with the final paragraph of my recent blog entry, I casually handed the final draft to a student.  He became very serious and read the essay twice before commenting on both things he liked as well as one suggestion for improvement (which I incorporated into the final version).

    I think students like to see my struggles, thought processes, and so forth. I believe students might even learn more from watching us write than they do from reading polished, professional prose.

    Some might argue that your Prof Hacker entries might not fit into your Thoreau or other themed courses.  However, I suspect that spending a few minutes sharing your blogs would be class time well spent.

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