Max. Classroom Capacity
Marcus W. Dickson
Wayne State University
One of the ways we can look at expanding our Max. Classroom Capacity as I-O educators is to turn to those who have been recognized as having a pretty darned high capacity already. Each year, SIOP recognizes one member with the Distinguished Contributions in Teaching Award, and in 2008, Dr. Mikki Hebl of Rice University received the award. (Past recipients include Paul Muchinsky, Roseanne Foti, Chuck Hulin, John Binning, and myself.)
In earlier volumes of TIP, Paul, Roseanne, and I have written articles reflecting our various views on teaching excellence. You can find links to them at the SIOP Teaching Aids Wiki, at http://siopwiki.wetpaint.com/. I thought it would be good to hear from Mikki this time, and so without further ado, I’ll turn these pages over to her.
Successful Teaching Isn’t Watching Students Achieve at Your Level—It’s Watching Them (and Ensuring That They) Rise Above It
Mikki Hebl
Rice University
2008 Recipient of SIOP’s Distinguished Contributions in Teaching Award
“Don’t include a teaching portfolio in your application to research universities.”
“Don’t spend too much time on teaching—it just doesn’t matter.”
“At this [Rice] university, you will get tenure if you’re a good researcher and a bad teacher, but you won’t get tenure if you’re a good teacher and a bad researcher…and you can’t be good at both.”
I received all of this advice prior to and upon arriving at my job in industrial-organizational psychology at Rice University. In fact, the theme of such statements was one of the reasons I almost chose a job at a school focused predominantly on teaching (Davidson College) over Rice University. The main impetus behind getting my PhD in psychology was foremost a love of the teaching occupation. Growing up in a very small town in Wisconsin where only seven of my local high school classmates went on to college, I was fully inspired by my teachers: They served as a stream of role models, each filling my mind with knowledge and possibilities, and nurturing in me the idea that I could achieve great things if I set high goals and worked hard. Not surprisingly, I wanted to be one of them. So, when I entered graduate school and went on the job market, I could not wait to become the quintessential teacher, to share my knowledge of and the passion I had for psychology, to nurture and inspire in students confidence and a lifelong quest for learning, and to show students that they could also achieve great things regardless of their backgrounds.
After much debate, I decided to take the job at Rice over Davidson. However, in the end, I did everything opposite of the pieces of advice (listed previously) that I was given. That is, I sent in a teaching portfolio when I applied to Rice (which to me, reflected how much I valued teaching); I spent and continue to spend an enormous amount of time on my teaching and with students; I have made teaching matter; and (I believe) I got tenure at Rice because it is possible to be adept at both research and teaching. As a result, I am an extremely happy associate professor in my 11th year at Rice and 12th year of academia, and I love my job now just as much, if not more, than when I first started.
I was delighted—fairly ecstatic—to have been the recipient of the SIOP Distinguished Teaching Award. And it was a complete privilege for me to give a teaching-related address this year at SIOP’s conference. This was, in part, because I love to talk about teaching. But it was also because the audience was mostly comprised of my former students who are now my very successful and beloved colleagues.
Although it would probably serve me well to recap what I talked about at SIOP, I can’t fully do justice to it because I made the audience take an oath that day that “what was said in the room would remain in the room,” and I named names of former students and described some very personal anecdotes. What I can recap, however, is the point of the five anecdotes I shared. And they addressed what I believe are important messages for teachers to remind themselves of on a regular basis. Here’s hoping you already know them and hold them as tenets too…
First, teachers have the power to change lives. Maybe a life is changed because a student fell in love with the subject material. Maybe it’s because a student gained experience in a lab and realized thereafter that he/she wanted to pursue psychology as a career. Or maybe it’s because a simple lesson delivered in a lecture or a simple statement of encouragement directed toward a particular student hit him/her at a critical moment in his/her intellectual or psychological development. And changed the student. Immutably. Be aware of this power and try not to abuse it. Rather, use it to shape students’ lives positively and inspire them to be the best they can be. Assume every day that that impressionable student is out there waiting to hear your message.
Second, teachers do not always know which students they are influencing. Just because a teacher doesn’t get rave reviews, or feedback in any way, doesn’t mean that the teacher isn’t having a powerful influence. Yes, teachers often influence those with whom they worked closely (e.g., graduate students, undergraduate honors theses students). But teachers also influence other, less likely suspects! Perhaps it is the quiet student in the back of the class who seemed bored the whole semester, or the student who only took your class only because it was a requirement, or the student who was fairly annoying and challenged you all semester long. Again, assume that you are influencing every single student in the class. And be awed and careful with the power and influence that you hold.
Third, teachers’ expectations are profoundly important and should be uniformly high for their students, whether or not they are minority, disabled, or otherwise diverse individuals. I have been amazed when I think back on my career and recall my first impressions of students. And just how wrong many of these impressions played out to be. Surely there are times when teachers expect too much out of students, but such high expectations (according to Robert Rosenthal) often produce remarkable performance. Rather, it is teachers’ low expectations, sometimes linked with markers of diversity, which can have profoundly terrible consequences. Some of the students I have had were diverse in very different ways: Some had self-inflicted diversity (e.g., an unimaginable number of earrings in a particular ear, hair colors ranging from fluorescent pink to skunk-like, Goth clothing complete with black capes) whereas others came to class without such choice, in wheelchairs or with walking sticks or canes. What I learned, even though I am a discrimination researcher, is that I too am prejudiced and held negative stereotypes of many of these students. And then they surprised me. Pleasantly. In any number of ways. And I learned that I must always work on recognizing and not acting upon these stereotypes. Because, to use a famous quote, “there is real bigotry in low expectations.” And everyone deserves to be held to high standards and expected—and shown how—to excel.
Fourth, teachers are privy to seeing a great deal of the vulnerability that exists in student populations. The college years are the formative ones and quick on the tails of those often troubling adolescent ones. Students are still trying to figure out who they are and in college, it is suddenly compounded with figuring out what they should become, who they should befriend, who they should date, and how they should excel. The additional pressures to lose weight, try drugs, achieve A’s, and perform well in extracurricular are excessive. Students in college don’t just need the information in Chapter 12; they need the answers to living well. As teachers, I am hopeful that we give students not only what they need to succeed but also what they need in order to live their lives successfully.
Fifth and finally, I believe that successful teaching isn’t watching students achieve at your level. It’s watching them (and ensuring that they) rise above it. I have been so extremely fortunate to have had streams of outstanding students, both at the undergraduate and graduate level. And to watch how well each of them has done and how much each of them has learned and is now performing is downright amazing. They are not carbon copies of me; they are much improved versions. And it is one of the most fulfilling aspects of my professional (and personal) life to watch each succeed. I think about them often and feel pride and gratitude in having played some role in their educational and professional paths.
There is a lot more I could say about teaching. But I profess that I profess too much. So, in conclusion, I would just say, once again, that I am delighted to have received the award and hope that I always remain a teacher who cares and inspires others, just as my own teachers have done to me.