The other day, I was teaching a class on Public Speaking. My goal for the evening was to teach the nuances of persuasive speaking topics, so I started in on techniques that decent speakers use in order to engage an audience…you know, the whole ethos, logos and pathos spread. At one point, I was explaining how I was once intrigued by a speech given by Helen Caldicott that she gave to UC Berkeley one night, involving cost overruns on defense programs. I was just going to touch on it and move on, but a couple of the students kept asking me follow-up questions on the concept of cost overruns, and next thing I knew I was teaching them all about how the defense industry has practically bankrupted our country by low bidding for projects and then pushing those same projects way over budget. It didn’t take much for me to realize my audience was more fascinated with the cost overrun topic than they were in learning how to make a point about persuasive speeches. Finally, after I explained far more than I ever should have about a political economic issue, I backtracked and explained that we needed to get back on topic about persuasive speeches.
The problem is: I do this a lot. When I teach political science courses, it’s not so bad, but there are times when I’m introducing Socrates and his theory of justice, and next thing I know I’ve gone onto a tangent involving Socrates, Aristotle, Locke, Hume and numerous contemporary philosophers. Almost always, I hit a point where some young girl says: “Do we need to know this?” or my other favorite: “Is this going to be on the test?”
I remember when lecturing on interpersonal communication a semester or so ago where I ended up explaining numerous stories from Plutarch that helped me explain why people socialize. It may sound kind of strange how that happens, but it almost always makes sense at the time, even if it might take some explanation to say exactly how it might happen.
I sometimes feel like I’m one of those philosopher-scientists of olden days whenever I teach a class like that. I love stories, whether they come from history, biology or strange politics. I remember going through school when a professor would read from the book, and people would fall asleep in the class. I don’t think I’ve had a student fall asleep in one of my classes in ages.
Every semester I receive reviews from students who say they really enjoy my classes, and enough of them stay after class to ask about all sorts of topics that sometimes have little to do with the subject matter itself. Almost always, I try to present material for them to research on their own (to learn it rather than just have me talk about it), and quite often one of those students will come back another day of class and present me with questions based on that suggested reading. There’s no better feeling when some young person comes armed with knowledge, wanting to know more.
The thing I struggle with is that I don’t see a lot of my colleagues doing the same thing. Instead, it’s almost like they’re competing with students to see who can do the bare minimum to get through class (teachers competing against students). I listen to the conversations in the teachers’ office and think I must be doing something wrong, because the conversations often hit me with statements like: “You’re wasting your time. Just teach the material and go home.”
What’s one to really think?