I sometimes worry that the very things that make me love teaching will lead me to quit teaching. At its best, there's nothing like it. Even so, there are so many factors working against a successful classroom right now. It is difficult not to get discouraged. — Dolores G. Morris
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I love teaching, but I’m now convinced that the formal education system has reached full crisis mode on any metric.
I recently saw a post from a philosophy professor that expressed her honest struggle with trying to teach in the classroom. I can relate. It’s a privilege to teach, but there are some unique, pressing challenges going on right now. Here’s what I mean.
When I step outside my office and walk down the hall to my classroom, I’m thinking about how I want the class time to go. Most of all, at a general level I want to present and engage with the material so it makes a real impact with the students, helps them learn new skills, and shows them ways of looking at the world that they hadn’t considered before. My honest, naive self wants them to feel the emotional punch and have their minds blown.
As I'm thinking about how to do all that, I approach the classroom to unlock the door. A few students are waiting outside the room, and they are doing the same thing every single time: face buried, zombie-like, staring at a screen. No one greets anyone, including me. It’s silent. No eye contact. No facial expression.
I unlock the door, and everyone silently walks in. They all take a seat, and it’s still dead silent as each one picks up where they left off, expressionless eyes glued to their screen, as if forced to scroll, obeying some perpetually mandated order. No one attempts any social interaction with the people around them. Maybe a couple exceptions here and there, but even brief pre-class touch points are more rare than common.
Now, I realize I am giving strong Old Man Mourning What Once Was vibes as I write this. But what do you think I’m thinking about every time while this is going on? I can’t help think what a different world would be like, where I approach the classroom and the students are talking with each other about…whatever. Where as I collect my notes and my thoughts, I have to cut off the engaging conversations so we can start class. In this world, their minds have already been activated on some level, and the social connections boost the mood individually and collectively. Those small but significant interactions help eliminate any gaps between their mindset as class starts and the mental readiness it takes to engage with philosophical questions.
Every time I approach the classroom, a non-small part of me hopes that this time I’ll round the corner and see that different world of organic, intentional, social connection. When I say every time, I mean every time, as irrational as that is. But of course, reality hits, and I begin class knowing that the mental mindset behind the eyes of the people in front of me are starting from a place where the classroom is perceived as an unfortunate, momentary distraction from the screen, not the other way around.
Lest I leave all that just sitting there in its unsettling, bleak condition, I can tell you that now, after workshopping different attempts in the classroom for years, I do see students get resurrected from the zombie state in almost every class meeting, with the right prompts and nudges and questions that wake up those formerly dormant brain cells. Class time typically results in some good, encouraging engagement and interaction. The discouraging, challenging part is what every person in a teaching position right now feels they are fighting against when trying to engage their minds. “Attention span” doesn’t begin to capture it. It’s something far deeper, a virus that spreads passivity, emotional numbness, risk avoidance, and social isolation, obliterating necessary ingredients for critical thinking, curiosity, wonder.
Education is in crisis because of an intensely thick, contagious, invisible, mental smog. You can’t see the extent of this problem with your physical eyes, because it’s taking place at the mental and spiritual levels. These are lethal doses of mental and spiritual carbon monoxide that threaten to undo education as we know it. As AI continues to learn daily at unimaginable speed, humans are doing the exact opposite. That inverse relationship is unsustainable.
If you know someone who is out there on the front lines of this ongoing education battle and actually cares about making a positive difference, they need your encouragement.
Until next time.
Jared
P.S. After some interest I couldn't ignore, my Intro to Logic course is back for a limited time here.
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