I’m On Your Side

Dear Chemistry Colleagues,

I was recently invited to speak at the evidence-based teaching academy, or EBTA, held by the College each May, and I chose to talk about compassionate teaching. This is a talk I’ve given several times, but I wanted to add something fresh. Lately, I’ve been struck that others don’t see me the way I see myself, or perhaps I don’t see myself the way that others see me. This has not been an epiphany, but more of a slow unveiling over the course of my career. I was reminded of it recently in meeting a prospective graduate student who seemed a little nervous on our Zoom call. We talked about opportunities in my lab and her interests. We ended up meeting a second time on Zoom, and she was much more relaxed that time. When I pointed this out, she told me that her expectations and perceptions didn’t match. She was expecting someone intimidating and formal, but what she found (or told me she found) was an approachable and easy to talk to individual.

I’ve been at Penn State for twenty-four years now and early in my time here, Tom Mallouk, who was my partner in teaching CHEM110H, told me to tell the students you are on their side. It took me another few years to realize that you have to actually be on their side, so that when you say this you are just reporting the truth. During that period of time, I watched videos of myself teaching—which, by the way, is not an easy thing to do—and in that process I realized that while there were student-friendly things I was doing, there were also things I was doing and saying that I wasn’t happy with. I started a process of change, with the intention of being more approachable. And my student reviews started to change. I got comments like “He made us feel welcome,” “I never felt intimidated by him,” or “He never made me feel dumb with my questions.” And students started flocking to office hours. For some, it might be natural to be this way, but, for many of us, we need to hone this through our choice of words, our tone of voice, our writings of the syllabus, and our body language.

Over the pandemic, I binged on some TV shows and one of my favorites was Ted Lasso. In that show, Roy Kent—an aging soccer player says about soccer, “It’s not just a game to me. It’s all I’ve ever known. It’s who I am. It’s all I am.” His girlfriend calls his young niece over and says “I need you to close your eyes for me. Can you describe your Uncle Roy?” She answers, “Well, he’s my uncle. His beard is scratchy. He buys me ice cream. He swears a lot. He’s really funny. And I love him.” His girlfriend turns to Roy, "See I didn’t hear anything about being a footballer. The point is, you don’t know what people think about Roy Kent. Secondly, all that matters, Roy Kent, is what you think about Roy." Research is important—it is the backbone of our department—but we can’t let it define us as human beings. When I think about my Zoom call with the prospective student, her perceptions weren’t an accident. I’ve worked hard at becoming that person, and it was gratifying to hear this from her. By being approachable, we stand a much better chance of changing the lives of others and of others changing our lives.  

Best Regards,

Phil