Teaching Philosophy

            Humor and communication, those are the keys to my teaching.

            My first day in Mexico was the worst, as I often tell my students, combining culture shock, exhaustion, and the realization that I had studied Spanish for six years and couldn't speak a word. It started when I got off the plane in El Paso. The only taxi is driven by this scary fellow with long hair, sunglasses, a baseball cap, and more silver than potosí. Oh yeah, and the tattoos. Did I mention that much of the silver is in the form of skulls? But he turned out to be one of the coolest people I ever met – a minor league baseball player in his youth, with a family of six boys, one of which was a minor league ball player like his father. The man helped me through Mexican customs, got me in the right line for the bus to Chihuahua and then made sure that I found the bus once I had my ticket.

            Not so funny, perhaps, but then I continue the story with my bus ride next to the least-communicative person on Earth, my desperate search for the cheap hotels, and then the bank incident. Imagine a turtle, and you can see me, a giant backpack on my back, and a daypack on my chest. Add to that the heat, my nervousness, and all the nice bank tellers tittering behind their hands as I struggle into the bank and through the formalities of changing money. Remember that the doors to the bank open inward, and that my backpack is wider than a single door, so both must be open for me to get outside. But the doors are on springs, and they close as soon as I try to step through, catching between my body and the backpack. The tittering behind me has blossomed into guffaws. One of them was crying. The manager managed to get his grin down to a smirk, then stood up and came to hold one of the doors for me. I stumbled from the bank, and no day in Spanish has ever been as harrowing. Most students who go abroad say that they can always think of my first day, and they don't feel so nervous.

            I hope that my stories keep my students laughing, because that means I am holding their attention. With that, I can teach them things, or at least set them on the path to learning. I want students to come to class hoping to hear something interesting, or even better, hoping to express something interesting. My goal is to have every student participate, and to have them enjoy it. Whether at the basic language level, or in advanced literature, culture or language classes, my students are involved in the classes that I teach. Small group work and class discussion are my favorite teaching modes. I lecture when I have to, but I remember being bored as a student in lecture classes, and I want my students to be present both physically and mentally.

            I have a reputation as a demanding teacher according to friends and colleagues who have spoken to my students. My students this semester say that my class isn't so much difficult as it is challenging, because I demand that they think and analyze the books, films and culture that we are studying. They also say that the class atmosphere is one in which they are comfortable speaking and expressing their ideas, and that is the key to my teaching. More than anything, I want my students to communicate.

            My students also made a comment this semester that I am very dramatic. The persona that I project is a bit exaggerated, but again, that leads to humor, which gives me their attention. If I have that, we may get communication, and that is why I teach – to communicate. I love working with students both in and out of class. My research lets me read and study books, culture and film, but my teaching lets me talk about those things, often to people who find them just as fascinating as I do. Were I to ever leave the academe, the thing I would miss most would be my discussions with students.

            So my philosophy is let's talk, laugh, and think – that way we all get to learn.