A while back, I discussed Mark Edmundson’s Why Teach? In Defense of a Real Education.
As I noted in the review, I didn’t learn much reading his book. But in a strange way, it sure inspired me.
It was one of those books which frequently made me pause and think. Why Teach? Why am I a Teacher? What is my goal?
Teaching, really teaching, in the modern college is tough. Very tough.
I love my students. I really do. But, truth be told, and it is not a pleasant thing to tell myself, most of my students, whom I dearly love, do not actually want an education. Most of my students just want an A and a diploma. The tough part of teaching, the really tough part, is figuring out a way to convince those students who just want an A and a diploma that maybe they should want something else. Maybe they should want to pause and get an education.
The students who want an education are easy and fun to teach. Professor, student, Great Book—an amazing education. I love teaching those students.
But, how to convince the majority of my students that this is what they should want, that their lives will be richer and fuller if they momentarily forget about that A and that diploma and just think about Truth?
Therein lies the thing I started pondering deeply while I was reading Edmundson’s book and have been pondering ever since. I too have been playing the kinder, gentler Jeremiah—not with my colleagues, but with my students. I have been using gentle enticements to try to lull my students into a new set of desires.
I have been trying to model a Joy of Learning, and hoping that the spirit will catch on. And it has worked on many, many students. But not all. If I am honest, not even most. Maybe, and here is the intriguing part, just maybe the kinder, gentler approach should be accompanied by methods more dramatic.
I’ll give an example. In my macroeconomic theory course—textbook intermediate level course required of all majors—I have long been assigning supplemental books, books which normal people buy at a bookstore and read. I assign three a semester, tell students to just read them and enjoy them. I then ask painfully simple exam questions about them—as I tell students up front, if you read the book, you will know the answer. A few students read the books—it is surprising, quite honestly, how few. Students don’t read anymore. Yet I keep putting these books in the course because for the students who do settle into a comfortable chair and just read for the pleasure of reading, there is that gentle enticement to the realization that learning stuff just for the joy of learning it is rather enjoyable.
A couple of years ago, one of those supplemental books I assigned was Chernow, The House of Morgan. It is a massive doorstop of a book. I assigned it knowing full well that most students wouldn’t read it. After all, the previous semester, most students didn’t read Michael Lewis’ Flash Boys, which is short, quick, and lively.
So, I figured since most students don’t read no matter how quick and easy the book is, why not throw in a longer supplemental book which will be immensely wonderful for that small minority of students who take it up and read it? I assigned that book before I read Edmundson’s book. But, now I am wondering—shouldn’t I do this every semester, shouldn’t I do more to convince students that spending one month reading just 25 pages a night of a magisterial history book is something worth doing?
One thing is certain, I will fail to convince economics majors that they should want to read something like The House of Morgan. It should not be a tough sell. After all, if you are going to major in Economics and want to work on Wall Street, then you should be interested in the history of the Morgans. I have no hesitation is saying that emphatically. My students should want to read this book. It is a wonderful book. I can even add that the semester I did this, I had a student come in late in the semester with her dog-earned, well-marked up copy saying that not only was it the best book she had read in college, she had bought a copy for her father for Christmas. It’s that good.
Indeed, if you are at all interested in the word of finance, you, Dear Reader, should also read it. You can even click on the link, go straight to Amazon and buy a copy. A mere twenty-five (25!) pages a day and you can read it in a month. And, it is really good.
Most of my students did not and would not want to read this book. It is 720 pages of text—a longer book than most of them have ever read. But, don’t be too hard on my students. How many readers of this blog do you think clicked the link above to buy a copy of the book?
So, how do I teach my students to want to read more? Anything I do to convince them they should want to read a book like The House of Morgan will a) at best convince a very few more students to read it and b) certainly annoy and offend lots of students who resent being told that their preference sets should be altered. If Edmundson and I are right about the problems of the modern college, then this shouldn’t even be a hard decision to make. Obviously I should do more.
Why Teach? Because Teaching can improve the lives of my students. There is no other reason to teach. It’s not about the grades, it’s not about the diplomas, it’s not about making students happy. It is about improving lives.
My students don’t know that. I do.
Yeah, it’s out of fashion to suggest that professors know something that students don’t know about what is best for the students. But, if I don’t know more than my students about what makes a better life, then why am I a teacher?
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