Experience is often a great teacher.
This principle may seem out of place in a so-called philosophy of teaching and learning written by a teacher. If one can learn all he or she needs from experience, then why on Earth does our culture need organized education? I believe new experiences can both inform our understanding of our past and shape our future. And throughout our lived experiences we often encounter a number of guides who help us make sense of our experiences and therefore forge lasting impressions in our memories. In some cases a qualified, observant teacher can serve as this guide. Sometimes these encounters are big and can change a life altogether. But, in most cases, these experiences are small but equally liberating and powerful.
In my own experience as a student, there were times that I certainly didn’t understand the significance of a well-informed guide (or mentor). As a sophomore in college majoring in English, I enrolled in a British literature survey course that included the works of William Shakespeare. At first, I found Shakespeare’s use of iambic pentameter to be clumsy and confusing. No matter how I divided up his words, evaluated the lyrical gymnastics necessary to maintain the flow and rhythm of his plays and sonnets, identifying the nuances of Shakespeare’s iambic pentameter was impossible for me. When I clearly demonstrated my trouble in assessment after assessment, my professor attempted to show me how the very same lyrical pattern I was struggling to grasp could be found in other modes of media. I wouldn’t hear of it. To pass the class I put on a pair of blinders and I charged on through the course—working twice as hard through the moments of struggle and frustration. I memorized foot placement of a few lines here and there, and maybe I fooled the professor in giving me a passing grade in the course. But, I wasn’t fooling myself.
Two years later, during my senior year, I was listening to the radio when the Rolling Stones’ “Honky Tonk Woman” came blaring through one and a half working speakers of my teal green 1996 Chevy S-10. Maybe it was the solid backbeat laid down by Charlie Watts. Perhaps it was the unmistakable lyrical interpretation provided by Mick Jagger. In any case, I remember singing along, tapping my thumb on the steering wheel, and identifying the iambic pentameter structure of each verse. I immediately turned my truck back to my apartment, pulled out my Bevington anthology of Shakespeare’s plays from the dusty bookshelf, and saw the beauty of metered verse for the very first time. The British literature class was over, I had turned in my final exam two years prior, and a grade had already been decided. But, the skill of identifying iambic pentameter did not crystallize for me within the course calendar.
In this case, through the timeless guidance of the Rolling Stones, I finally unlocked the secret of Shakespeare’s poetic style. This one moment not only informed me of a very important aspect of British literature that I missed in the context of an academic class, but it also gave me important insight on how a well-meaning professor was trying to help me. I had ultimately found one possible way that I might be able to teach students to engage in content they find difficult or obtuse.
The majority of the courses I have taught thus far at Elizabethtown College are in the first-year writing program. EN 100 Writing and Language is a foundational course that offers students the opportunity to expand and sharpen their academic writing skills. As an experienced teacher, I know that not all students arrive with the same previous experiences. This is one challenge that I have attempted to meet head-on by engaging a number of techniques and technologies that help foster a sense of community in my classes. In my EN 100 courses students collaborate on a number of small and large projects, building on each other’s strengths and learning from one another when necessary. I also attempt to extend the learning of our course through web-based communications, like Twitter, to engage learners in a variety of conversations related to the course material. For example, particularly during election years, my students and I have carried out a number of Twitter chats during live political debates to discuss the uses of propaganda and politicalspeak. Together, we examine the language unfolding in the media around us in an attempt to become better informed.
By the end of the course, I know that most students will meet my expectations for the class. And a few may not internalize the important concepts of our course at all. However, I hope that at some point in the near future something we discussed, viewed, or read will resonate in their academic, professional, or personal lives. If I may but serve as a mentor or guide in those critical moments, I believe experience can truly inform those who are open to learn from it.