by Devin Jerome
Hi y’all! I’m a third-year PhD student in the history department and I would like to share what I’ve learned so far in The Franklin College Writing Intensive Program (WIP). Unlike most of my peers, I am not supporting a writing-intensive class this term. In fact, the course I’m currently supporting is probably the least writing-focused of all the classes I’ve ever TA’d for. Still, it’s been a rewarding (if atypical) experience, and I’m really looking forward to converting theory to practice with my WIP classes in the spring.
Since I’m not supporting a fall WIP class, this post will focus primarily on what I’ve learned in the WIPP 7001 classroom. WIPP 7001 has given me opportunities to encounter new pedagogical content, ideas, and strategies. It’s also allowed me to grow with and learn from brilliant educators who come from disciplines across the liberal arts. I still have no idea what it means to write math proofs well, but I’m deeply grateful to my classmates for sharing their knowledge and diverse perspectives with me.
One experience in particular demonstrates what my classmates have taught me this term. It was the day I gave my five-minute-teach presentation. Honestly, it was a disaster; I committed a true comedy of errors in the lead-up. First, I forgot to sign up earlier in the semester, so I was stuck with an inconvenient time slot. I still put together a solid lesson, but with no time left to spare. In fact, I didn’t even have time to post my materials to the correct ELC thread. Then my bus ran late so I had to catch an Uber to class. On the way to class my driver took a wrong turn and got stuck in traffic. I knew I was late, and I felt anger and shame for it. Generally speaking, I don’t like flying by the seat of my pants, but more importantly, I felt like I was letting my classmates down by missing their presentations. I eventually got out of the car early and ran the rest of the way to my classroom on foot.
Things improved once I arrived. I entered class between presentations and found my seat without causing too much disruption. Pretty soon, I was having such a nice time learning from my classmates that my stress and angst melted away. Things were good again.
Finally, it was my turn to present and things took another turn for the worse. I had technical difficulties with my presentation and began to feel all the earlier stress, shame, and angst weighing down on me again. Then, suddenly, I heard one of my classmates say, “I like your shirt.” I felt a flush in my cheeks and replied with what I hoped was an enthusiastic “thanks.” Then a student from another part of the room said they liked my pants. Finally, someone else said they liked my glasses. Reader, I do not dress fashionably. I have never received successive compliments on my appearance, even from grandparents. This wasn’t about what I was wearing or how I was wearing it.
The lesson I took away from this experience is a basic one, one so fundamental that it can be easy to forget: being a good educator requires kindness.
I began to realize that my classmates could tell that I was struggling and were trying to pull me out of my funk. It worked. They helped me remember that I had a great lesson planned and a lot going for me otherwise. The technical dysfunction eventually resolved itself, and my lesson went off otherwise without a hitch. Afterward, I felt relief and then really touched by the gesture. The lesson I took away from this experience is a basic one, one so fundamental that it can be easy to forget: being a good educator requires kindness. But giving kindness when it’s needed most requires extraordinary empathy and communication, and so I aim to improve on that so that my students will feel affirmed and supported in the classroom like I always did in WIPP 7001.