Just before the university at which my wife teaches began its fall term, every faculty member was sent a copy of a book [What The Best College Teachers Do, by Ken Bain]. Because I did spend four years teaching at the collegiate level, I also read the book. At first, as I progressed through the book, I was intrigued, then vaguely displeased. When I finished I was fuming.
Why? Because the examples that Bain chooses invariably are “inspiring” teachers. Now, I have nothing against “inspiring” teachers, or at least not too much, but it’s absolutely clear that Bain regards the primary function of teachers is inspiring their students to learn. All other aspects of education are secondary in his view, from what I can tell. Just how far have we come from the reputed statement of Thomas Edison that declared that success was one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration? The fact is that the majority of students – and people – learn from their failures, not their successes, and failures are usually not inspiring. Learning from them is work. And work requires more effort than inspiration.
This is particularly important to consider, given that figures just released by ACT reveal that more than half of all entering college students lack either the reading, analytical, or mathematical skills, if not all three, adequate for college level courses. All the inspiration in the world isn’t going to help much if students lack the grounding necessary for collegiate-level work.
In conjunction with this messianic text of praise to inspiration, the university also passed out to all faculty members a glossy color booklet entitled Extraordinary Educators, which profiled 12 faculty members for their “passion in inspiring excellence in their students.” Since I was trained in a certain amount of analysis, I looked through the booklet and found it very interesting, and not in a particularly positive way. Half of those profiled have been at the university five years or less, a quarter three years or less. Only two had been there more than ten years. I’m sorry, but you can’t prove excellence in just a few years. Half were women, all of them attractive, and five of the six were young. Only two of the men and one of the women were past their late forties. Because I have taught at the university and been active in university-connected matters and because my wife has been teaching there for twenty years, including stints as a department chair and a member of faculty senate, it’s fair to say we know a significant number of faculty members, and there are educators who are far more effective than at least half, and possibly 80% of those profiled. Why were those educators who were profiled chosen? Because, it would appear, they’re popular, and everyone wants into their classes. Popularity doesn’t preclude excellence, but it also doesn’t define it, and from what I’ve seen, too many college educators dumb down their classes to be popular, and administrations, at least in public universities, tacitly encourage it, in order to keep enrollments up.
The message I got from the book and booklet was that extraordinary educators must be young, attractive, and popular. Forget about evaluating professors on what they demand of their students or what those students actually learn. Just look at the popularity numbers, student evaluations [which study after study has shown reward easy-grading faculty members], and class enrollments.
Inspiring educators? How about more who require learning, effort, and perspiration?