The Measure of a Teacher

Almost a month ago now, Tricia wrote a post that has remained on the edges of my thoughts. She says:

I guess it all depends upon the “lens” through which we choose to look at these things. The numbers can be helpful to an extent, but seeing candidates in action is really the most telling piece of evidence we have. I DO know a good teacher when I see one, and so do you.

I think I have been stuck on this one because, in the words of an old college friend “I feel strongly both ways!” On the one hand, it is true that the very things that make for good teaching can be the hardest things to quantify. The things that don’t really matter so much, (like getting forms in on time…or like getting students to memorize facts and then measuring how well they spit them back) are a lot easier to represent in some numerical fashion. So, that hand says that it is stupid to try to measure good teaching.

But the other hand holds some wisdom as well. Clearly there ARE people who make a difference in students lives, who create a spark, who move students from assumptions to questioning to discovery. Yes, there is a difference between gifted teaching and ho hum teaching, and if there is a difference, we should be able to quantify it in some way. In fact, it is crucial that we quantify it in some way, or else we end up saying “Either you ARE a teacher or you AREN”T a teacher” which implies that learning and improving are not part of the process of great teaching. And I don’t believe that is true.

Today I heard a fascinating discussion between 2 nationally recognized, award winning teachers. Hoyle teaches Accounting and Ayers teaches history (when he is not president-ing that is!) I hear from them what I heard from Ken Bain last spring: great teachers capture the attention of their students, get them invested in big questions (or puzzles, as Joe likes to say) and then coach, question, and cheerlead as the students learn.

What I have learned in my work in faculty development is: there are ways to do this, techniques. Just having techniques is not enough, but just having passion and no techniques is not so effective either. Most great teachers I know have horror stories of their first times teaching. Part of what makes them great is they didn’t give up, or decide “well, that’s good enough.” Some teachers go out and find information on their own (dare I say this tends to be the “traditional masculine model?”) I think both Ayers and Hoyle described something like that, saying they thought about their teaching and their students’ learning, and then consciously made changes, searching for new strategies. Perhaps what I am tuned into was that my search for a better way to teach led me to a group (for me it was the National Writing Project) and to a community of teachers who cared deeply about learning.
In higher ed, we haven’t done such a great job making the academy friendly for females, and most of the time what I hear people say is “yes, we need more flexible tracks to tenure and a day care center on campus.” Agreed. But I also think we need to support teaching in a more community-oriented way if we want to support the growth of teachers who are more suited to a community approach. Some of those people will also be men! The point is that we teach the way we were taught until we experience something different. When we talk to other teachers and read about other ways to teach, and go to conferences and see different methods, we can get to the style which will work for us. But I also believe that we must continually be about this process. (Hoyle likes to say “trying to improve every semester by 5%, but he is an accountant : ) ) And getting conversations going on campus that will help people find new ways and reach their 5% is not easy! And nothing makes it more threatening to talk about your struggles than the idea that great teachers are born, not made. If that is the case, then admitting you want to improve your teaching is the same as saying you are a failure and always will be.

So I don’t disagree with Tricia, but I fear a slippery slope, one which I think has held back educators for a long time.