Teaching College Students is Hard: Compassion in Hindsight
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As an undergraduate, I was the student who sat in the back of the gen ed requirements that didn't interest me (looking at you, Intro to Philosophy). On the course evaluations, I waxed poetic about how unfair it was to force "good" students like me to take pointless easy classes with the unwashed masses, or how I would never use the information I learned ever again in my life. I judged professors who didn't have it all together: those who forgot their test printouts in their office, or spilled coffee on an assignment they were grading, or mixed up the due dates for something. In some gen ed required classes, I even committed the cardinal sin of using my computer for notes and instead browsing Pinterest or working on my novel in class. By my senior year, I grew more appreciative and less condescending, but I still didn't exhibit the kind of compassion I should have for these professors who gave their time and energy to teach me (even if I wasn't always in their class willingly).
Never did I think teaching was as difficult as now that I can see it from the other side. So here are some facts from a student-turned-college-teaching-assistant about things you might not have considered about college professors before:
1. Unless you're a natural public speaker, it is a struggle to stand and talk at the front of a classroom every day.
I don't think I'd be wrong in saying that often intellectuals (and thus those who have resigned themselves to a life of academia) are introverted, if not shy. We prefer our noses to be stuck in books than to be the center of attention day in and day out. Professorship forces you to be more outgoing than ever before if you're an introvert, and more than anything, it drains you. Think about it: if you get your energy from being alone, having 25 faces staring at you while you talk for four hours a week can not be fun.
2. Your students are often like a really bad crowd at a concert.
Imagine you're performing at a concert. You've practiced for it. You've set up all the instruments. You think it's gonna be a great show. Then, when you start playing, you notice that half the audience has blank looks on their faces as if they can't understand anything you're singing, and the other half is looking at their phones. But they still paid to be there, so you have to finish the show anyway, thinking that no one is enjoying it. That's what it's like to be a professor.
3. Lesson planning takes FOREVER.
Lesson planning is so much more complicated than just taking a list of information and deciding what days to explain what concept. You have to plan activities to engage the class. You have to rework the plans when the class doesn't understand a concept as well as they should have. You have to work around due dates. You have to scaffold the concepts (teach them foundational information first, then work up). You have to practice your lectures or be good at estimating how long they will take. And, on top of all that, you have to be flexible. Because you never know when the entire class might be stressed out to the breaking point and need a work day, meaning you have to scrap an entire lesson.
4. Work doesn't stay in the classroom.
I teach 4 hours a week, but my work doesn't end there. Countless hours are spent grading essays and homework, and I can't even estimate how long some lessons and activities have taken to plan. I answer emails from students all the time, and sometimes I schedule outside-of-class meetings with those who are really struggling and can't make it to my office hours. Teaching is not the kind of job you leave at 5 pm to return to the next morning—the stacks upon stacks of worksheets and essays littering my apartment can attest to that.
5. Office hours are there for a reason.
When a professor tells you they will be in their office during certain times throughout the day, it means *they will be there during those certain times.* There is nothing more frustrating than students assuming you live and sleep in your office and that they can come in at any point in time expecting you to be there. We do like to have some kind of life, thank you very much.
6. We can see and hear you.
Unless you are in a giant lecture hall, your professor can see and hear you. I notice when you're browsing the Wikipedia page of a random rapper when we're discussing APA citation style. I notice when you are texting the entire class period. I notice when your phone starts vibrating with a call in the middle of class. I even notice when you leave one earbud in and are listening to music while I lecture. And I'm not gonna lie, it hurts a little bit.
7. It's difficult to watch you fail.
This has to be the most difficult thing about teaching. It might be because I have some kind of savior complex, but even for the most troublesome students in my class, it takes everything in me not to baby-step walk them through passing. It is not easy to watch someone fail, due to a lack of motivation or misunderstanding the content, and at some point, have to let it happen. My personal philosophy in teaching is that I will do everything in my power to give those students the resources to increase their grade and make them understand that help is there if they want it; however, it is still gut-wrenching for me to have to sit by and accept that in the end a student has to help themselves. It's the old "lead a horse to water" saying, and in college, this means students have to ask for help and commit to doing the work necessary to maintain good grades.
8. We need to feel appreciated too.
Teaching is often a thankless job. But it doesn't have to be—and it shouldn't be. One of the most fulfilling moments I've had teaching my undergrad Composition course has been sitting down to read their comments on our midterm course evaluation. Hearing positive feedback about my teaching style was the most reassuring and empowering encouragement that I didn't even realize I needed. (Shout out to whoever told me they enjoyed my class *because* of me being the instructor. You made me cry!)
Back when we were all still in that blissful world of undergrad for one last day. Now two of us are instructors!
To any professors who ever caught me on my phone, whose class I ever spent writing my novel instead of paying attention in, or who didn't quite have everything together every day, I apologize and know that I am retroactively throwing a lot of compassion your way.