Patrick B. O’Sullivan, PhD
Director, Center for Teaching, Learning & Technology
Illinois State University
May 2009
Semester’s end is a time of challenge, especially when it’s also the end of the academic year.
By early May, students’ energy is just about spent. Some seem to emanate waves of stress as they cram for finals and plead desperately for a few measly extra credit points in vain attempts to rescue grades teetering between acceptable and disappointing.
This time of the year can also be challenging for faculty. We scramble to complete the syllabus calendar that seemed so reasonable in January while the specter of the growing pile of ungraded papers overdue for return to students haunts our waking (and sometimes our sleeping) hours. We also know that final papers, projects, and exams will be rolling in soon to replenish the pile of work needing our attention and we wonder where we’ll find the time and energy.
This is when experience can have its benefits. We know that somehow we will make it through to the end, just as we have in years past.
But over the years the accumulation of semesters can begin to take a toll. The academic grind of teaching and publishing can wear away our resilience, our enthusiasm, and our energy. I was struck by a recent essay in the Chronicle of Higher Education in which a self-described “mediocre” professor describes feeling “something that hints of bitter apathy” when contemplating whether he was actually making a difference for his students. The same week, on a professional developer’s listserve, a contributor wrestling with end-of-year student papers concluded that various teaching techniques seemed to have little effect on outcomes – students with an “academic aptitude” did well and those that did not did poorly. Someone else responded a bit caustically that with that attitude it just might be time to find another line of work.
My reaction was more sympathetic. Although I have never reached that intensity of despair or cynicism, at times I have felt a bit underprepared to be a college professor. I’ve been discouraged by the discrepancy between my idealistic desire to be an excellent teacher and the few nasty student comments among the good-but-not great teaching evaluations. I know that I am not alone in having experienced moments (or stretches of time) similar to these.
Among newer faculty, a set of experiences common enough to earn a name is the “imposter syndrome. Its symptoms include the feeling that, despite a doctorate and teaching experience, one day soon their students and colleagues will discover that they really don’t know what they’re doing. Among veteran faculty, like the Chronicle writer, it’s burnout that can loom on the professional horizon. Symptoms include a lack of enthusiasm and little creativity for teaching, a tendency to blame students for meager performances in class, and cynicism about the potential for teaching to truly make a difference.
If you find yourself experiencing short bouts (or long stretches) of similar symptoms, consider them early warnings that you could be starting down a path toward cynicism and burnout. I can’t say that I know the cure, as the reasons that can push faculty in this direction are many and varied. But I can tell you, from direct experience, that a powerful means of rejuvenation is investing in your own professional development.
I may not have to work too hard to convince some of you because so many have been investing in themselves for years. Each summer, hundreds of ISU faculty have been making time to hone their teaching skills by participating in CTLT’s Summer Institute for the 21st Century Educator.
I’ve honestly been amazed that so many of you dedicate precious summer days to our workshops. This is despite the fact that you are not on contract, you have just finished a demanding academic year, and summers are an opportunity to devote significant chunks of time to research. Yet since its creation in 2006, the Summer Institute has become our largest program by far, accounting for about two thirds of the annual total for professional development hours at ISU. Last summer, more than 330 individual faculty spent more than 6000 hours and CTLT distributed more than $92,000 in $100/day stipends to faculty.
But for all the new teaching strategies and instructional technology skills that you gain from the workshops, in my mind the most valuable outcome is renewed energy and rejuvenated attitudes. I see it in the little smiles of accomplishment when someone masters a new instructional technology. I hear it at lunch breaks in the animated conversations among newly acquainted colleagues. I feel it when someone has one of those “aha” moments, those wonderful flashes of insight that pop up in the middle of a discussion.
One particularly memorable bit of evidence that these workshops are making a difference came toward the end of last year’s summer-long “Reinvent Your Course” workshop. A veteran faculty member, dedicated to her students and enthusiastic about her course, nevertheless had struggled to get her students to connect with the material and ideas. Toward the end of summer, as she shared the draft of her reinvented syllabus based on a completely new foundation for her teaching, the course she had faced with trepidation now couldn’t begin soon enough. She looked around the table at her peers and, with obvious glee and a bit of amazement, said, “I cannot wait to teach this class!”
Imagine that, being this excited about the beginning of classes in the fall. It just could be that investing in yourself professionally can also be an investment in yourself personally.
If you’d like a taste of this, look over our schedule of Summer Institute workshops during a break from grading. Try at least one, or maybe two. See if they help to fend off creeping cynicism and burnout – and maybe even help to rejuvenate your passion for teaching.
