ACU Today - Fall 1999 "Why I Teach"

Why I Teach

Photography by Cade White, Instructor of Journalism and Mass Communication

Teachers spend considerable time trying to understand the motivation behind each student in their classroom. At times, just one insight can make a world of difference in technique, strategy and planning, and perhaps be the key to help open a young mind to some truth or knowledge sought.

Rarely in higher education do students learn the motivation of their teachers. It likely happens more often at Abilene Christian than other institutions because such importance is placed on developing mentoring relationships between teachers and learners.

We recently asked the ACU faculty to write short essays on the topic "Why I Teach." What we learned as we read was poignant, humorous, affirming, inspiring.

"This is no ordinary college," the late president Don H. Morris ('24) once said of his alma mater.

He was right. ACU's teachers may look like any others, but as you will learn, they are much different.

The true value of Christian higher education, particularly at ACU, is found in the hearts of men and women like these who love God and seek to serve Him, who love sharing knowledge as much as learning, and who see reflections of themselves in the eyes of the students they clearly love to teach.

Al Haley

ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH, WRITER-IN-RESIDENCE

This time, when I entered the classroom, I did not take a seat. It was the others who filed in behind me and settled in comfortable places.

The old landscape had been reversed. No longer did I sit in the back of the room waiting for pyrotechnics, measured dullness, or something in between from the poor prof with the burden of the next hour on his or her shoulders. I could not stare out the window and make friends with my daydream distractions. I would no longer be getting by with saying, "I didn't quite finish the reading." On this new day, it was suddenly completely up to me.

I had become the teacher rather than the student.

Back in my undergrad era, I never imagined such an outcome. I was not visited by an angel, carefully enunciating the annunciation: "You are one of them. You shall teach." Teaching did not "run in the family." Yet nowadays, I find myself in the unique and sometimes frightening position: looking down at the students and cracking that smile that disguises how inadequate I feel. How did this happen?

I think mine's a case of what people may mean when they speak of God's leading us. One day you're doing one thing, perhaps not too well, and bam! there's an opportunity to try something else, and the Spirit moves within, and you find yourself saying "all right" when before you would have mumbled "wait just a minute."

About eight years ago, God put me in the role of teacher for the first time, and after that fact and the flicker of faith that allowed me to risk it, I found out why. Without realizing it, I'd grown heavy with knowledge and perhaps just a bit of wisdom. I had not thought of it as knowledge or wisdom, but when I broke off pieces of my life's experience and shared with students ways of going about the craft of writing, I noticed it was as if I fed them food they couldn't find elsewhere.

They listened to my admonitions, and they wrote, often quite well as I discovered when reading certain poems and short stories. On the best occasions, alone in my office, I involuntarily put down my purple marking pen. Instead of being a critic, the student's success allowed me to become a reader, receiving pleasure from what was on the page. I found it more satisfying than if I'd composed the words myself. I'd become midwife to what otherwise might not have been born.

I received all the excitement and enjoyment of the literary work without the personal pain of going into labor.

There was another strong reinforcement. After a Tuesday night stomping back and forth, exhorting them to write passionately about something the world really needs to know, I found I could rise the next morning and approach my own work excited by new possibilities and insights.

One of the great secrets of teaching is that it has the potential to be communal. The young receive from the old, yes, but it can flow the other direction. We come together as a group and leave as more complete individuals. I can't think of a better motive to once again walk through the doorway and face the rows of desks and those faces that quietly await my first words of the day.

Liz Rotenberry ('75)

ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF EXERCISE SCIENCE AND HEALTH

I don't know why I teach today. Oh, I can point out the circumstances of my upbringing that pointed me toward teaching exercise science, but today, I can't tell you why I teach.

It's a mystery why the Lord continues to move me in this profession. Each day seems to hold a new reason for being a professor. Through small glimpses of how my teaching affects others, I see some positive reasons for being a teacher.

Like the day I saw tears well up in the eyes of the mother of one of my students as I told her I thought her son - though not a stellar student as a freshman - was now on the right track and should pursue graduate school.

Her face shined as her faith was renewed in her son, and her parenting was affirmed.

I saw a reason for my teaching the day one of my "single mom" students and I discussed the need for fluoride in her child's drinking water. It had never occurred to her that the bottled water she so carefully offered her child was void not only of impurities but the very mineral her daughter needed for healthy teeth.

She smiled with awareness as we talked and thanked me for guiding her. We continue to be friends, and who knows when our next "mom talk" will occur.

And then there was the day I asked my elementary education students to write about what they had learned when teaching third graders to juggle. The comments were seldom about the mechanics of the skill. They wrote most often about the difference between boys and girls, how much attention children required when learning, and how fun it was to see the children succeed. I knew they had learned far more than how to impart knowledge. They had learned to teach.

I hope the Lord guides them as He surely is guiding me. And although I can't tell you why I teach today, I can tell you there must be some wonderful reason. And who knows - maybe the Lord will let me see a glimpse of its effectiveness so I'll be encouraged to continue on.

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Last Update: Sept. 16, 1999
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		Why I Teach Photography by Cade White, Instructor of Journalism and Mass Communication Teachers spend considerable time trying to understand the motivation behind each student in their classroom. At times, just one insight can make a world of difference in technique, strategy and planning, and perhaps be the key to help open a young mind to some truth or knowledge sought. Rarely in higher education do students learn the motivation of their teachers. It likely happens more often at Abilene Christian than other institutions because such importance is placed on developing mentoring relationships between teachers and learners. We recently asked the ACU faculty to write short essays on the topic "Why I Teach." What we learned as we read was poignant, humorous, affirming, inspiring. "This is no ordinary college," the late president Don H. Morris ('24) once said of his alma mater. He was right. ACU's teachers may look like any others, but as you will learn, they are much different. The true value of Christian higher education, particularly at ACU, is found in the hearts of men and women like these who love God and seek to serve Him, who love sharing knowledge as much as learning, and who see reflections of themselves in the eyes of the students they clearly love to teach. Al Haley ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH, WRITER-IN-RESIDENCE This time, when I entered the classroom, I did not take a seat. It was the others who filed in behind me and settled in comfortable places. The old landscape had been reversed. No longer did I sit in the back of the room waiting for pyrotechnics, measured dullness, or something in between from the poor prof with the burden of the next hour on his or her shoulders. I could not stare out the window and make friends with my daydream distractions. I would no longer be getting by with saying, "I didn't quite finish the reading." On this new day, it was suddenly completely up to me. I had become the teacher rather than the student. Back in my undergrad era, I never imagined such an outcome. I was not visited by an angel, carefully enunciating the annunciation: "You are one of them. You shall teach." Teaching did not "run in the family." Yet nowadays, I find myself in the unique and sometimes frightening position: looking down at the students and cracking that smile that disguises how inadequate I feel. How did this happen? I think mine's a case of what people may mean when they speak of God's leading us. One day you're doing one thing, perhaps not too well, and bam! there's an opportunity to try something else, and the Spirit moves within, and you find yourself saying "all right" when before you would have mumbled "wait just a minute." About eight years ago, God put me in the role of teacher for the first time, and after that fact and the flicker of faith that allowed me to risk it, I found out why. Without realizing it, I'd grown heavy with knowledge and perhaps just a bit of wisdom. I had not thought of it as knowledge or wisdom, but when I broke off pieces of my life's experience and shared with students ways of going about the craft of writing, I noticed it was as if I fed them food they couldn't find elsewhere. They listened to my admonitions, and they wrote, often quite well as I discovered when reading certain poems and short stories. On the best occasions, alone in my office, I involuntarily put down my purple marking pen. Instead of being a critic, the student's success allowed me to become a reader, receiving pleasure from what was on the page. I found it more satisfying than if I'd composed the words myself. I'd become midwife to what otherwise might not have been born. I received all the excitement and enjoyment of the literary work without the personal pain of going into labor. There was another strong reinforcement. After a Tuesday night stomping back and forth, exhorting them to write passionately about something the world really needs to know, I found I could rise the next morning and approach my own work excited by new possibilities and insights. One of the great secrets of teaching is that it has the potential to be communal. The young receive from the old, yes, but it can flow the other direction. We come together as a group and leave as more complete individuals. I can't think of a better motive to once again walk through the doorway and face the rows of desks and those faces that quietly await my first words of the day. Liz Rotenberry ('75) ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF EXERCISE SCIENCE AND HEALTH I don't know why I teach today. Oh, I can point out the circumstances of my upbringing that pointed me toward teaching exercise science, but today, I can't tell you why I teach. It's a mystery why the Lord continues to move me in this profession. Each day seems to hold a new reason for being a professor. Through small glimpses of how my teaching affects others, I see some positive reasons for being a teacher. Like the day I saw tears well up in the eyes of the mother of one of my students as I told her I thought her son - though not a stellar student as a freshman - was now on the right track and should pursue graduate school. Her face shined as her faith was renewed in her son, and her parenting was affirmed. I saw a reason for my teaching the day one of my "single mom" students and I discussed the need for fluoride in her child's drinking water. It had never occurred to her that the bottled water she so carefully offered her child was void not only of impurities but the very mineral her daughter needed for healthy teeth. She smiled with awareness as we talked and thanked me for guiding her. We continue to be friends, and who knows when our next "mom talk" will occur. And then there was the day I asked my elementary education students to write about what they had learned when teaching third graders to juggle. The comments were seldom about the mechanics of the skill. They wrote most often about the difference between boys and girls, how much attention children required when learning, and how fun it was to see the children succeed. I knew they had learned far more than how to impart knowledge. They had learned to teach. I hope the Lord guides them as He surely is guiding me. And although I can't tell you why I teach today, I can tell you there must be some wonderful reason. And who knows - maybe the Lord will let me see a glimpse of its effectiveness so I'll be encouraged to continue on. Page 1 \| Page 2 \| Page 3 \| Page 4 \| Page 5 \| Page 6

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		Last Update: Sept. 16, 1999 Page maintained by Jeremy Parish, parishj@nicanor.acu.edu Questions to Ron Hadfield, hadfieldr@nicanor.acu.edu http://www.acu.edu/alumni/inside-acu/fall99/cover01.html