I found a hilarious article on McSweeney’s making fun of the expression “students teach me as much as I teach them”, which teachers sometimes voice. I followed it up with a comment that I find it weird when teachers or presenters start the class or workshop with something like “I’m here to also learn from you.” I thought mine was a common sentiment, but apparently (based on a small sample size of 4) it’s not. And I’ve been trying and failing to figure out what accounts for the difference. Since it turns out to be very hard for me to see the alternative point of view, I will explain mine instead.
First, I’d like to distinguish “X teaches me” from “I learn in the presence of X”. I can learn all sorts of stuff in the presence of people who aren’t trying to teach me – actually, in the presence of people who are actively trying not to teach me as well. In a sense, everyone should be ready to learn new things all the time, and so the thought that “teachers would continuously learn (about teaching) while they teach” is a truism. I’m sure miners continuously learn about mining when they mine. In fact, it is probably very hard to not learn to do something better as you are doing it — you’d need a certain dangerous absent-mindedness and an ability to function while absently minded. Consequently, I am not talking about learning to teach better while teaching. That will happen whether the teacher likes it or not.
If we are not talking about learning to teach, what might we be talking about? I think there are two aspects: the area of study (what the teacher or presenter is hired to teach) and the rest of life (students sharing their insights or experiences about life).
Let’s start with the area of study. Can teachers learn something about their speciality while teaching students who have no prior knowledge? Of course they can. If nothing else, trying to put content in a logically meaningful way or finding new examples to explain a concept often deepens my own understanding of something I’ve been studying for years. What’s my problem with it?
My problem is not so much “teachers are not allowed to learn”, but that “voicing the intention to learn is very strange”. What might be communicated by telling my students “I have learned so much about what I’m about to teach you when I’m preparing for this class”? Two things might happen: students might question my qualification as their teacher, or students might see this as a display of humility.
It seems like my friends who have disagreed with me tend to think that it communicates a healthy display of humility. Now, it’s a very strange display of humility if you think about it — it is only a display of humility if students don’t believe you. If you truly know so little, saying that you’re learning a lot is not a display of humility. So students must believe that you actually do know a lot — a lot more than you’re letting on — in order for them to see it as humility. Russell is allowed to say “I don’t actually understand logic”; a new grad who’s trying to find a job in logic isn’t.
So, the interpretation that the voicing of intention to learn is a display of humility depends on the assumption that students will not actually take it literally. First, that’s a privilege only some have. But let’s not talk about that. As a student, I often just find it disingenuous. It’s like a friend saying “I’m sure my paper is horrible” expecting you to say “no no no it’s great!” because the paper is not at all bad, and if you actually agree with them, they’d be mad. It’s a healthy little exercise that people can do with their friends all they want, but doing it with students who 1) are not your friends and 2) are less powerful than you is kinda like the boss fishing for compliments from the intern. “I am here to learn about this topic with you.” “No no no, we’re sure you know way more about it than us and we appreciate your humility.”
Of course, students may raise questions that the teacher has never considered before, prompting the teacher to think deeper about the subject. As such, having the attitude (or even voicing it) of “there may be questions you ask that I cannot answer” is probably both objectively accurate and a genuine display of humility. That said, if a student has asked a question that inspired me to read a bunch of books and learn a bunch of stuff, it really is very much of a stretch to say that the student has “taught” me anything (or even “was there” when learning happened, since learning happened while I was reading).
Finally, what I really dislike is the intention of learning from students “because they are all very interesting people with very interesting lives”. Don’t get me wrong — I think it’s true that most people have very interesting lives. What is also true, however, is that most of them have no obligation to share that with me.
Sometimes when I go to a workshop on, say, presentation skills or how to best write a resume, the presenter would insist on “getting to know” us a little bit better. This doesn’t happen all the time and sometimes the things they’re trying to know are relevant to the workshop — our academic background, intended career goals, etc. But many times the things they want to know are not at all relevant or they ask follow-up questions that are really there to satisfy their own curiosity. Teachers sometimes do it, too, to their students. It is this sense of “learning from you” that I have the most problems with. Since I have limited experience with this in classroom settings (my undergrad had huge classes + when this happens I usually just force myself to zone out so I don’t cringe), my examples will mostly be about workshop presenters.
When a teacher or presenter uses class time to ask about my personal life, they are, more likely than not, not actually interested in getting to know me. They are fishing for something fun and exciting to tell their friends at the pub later that day. Or they are trying to calm their nerves in front of the crowd. Or they’re bored and simply want to kill some time. To be fair, all of these are good reasons, and in many circumstances, they can be satisfied without inducing harm — by chatting with students who are also the chitchatting type. The problem is that many students (like myself) are not that type. When we are asked, we feel obligated to answer, and uncomfortable while doing so. When we are not asked, we wonder if the chitchatting type gets higher grades because of it.
Why might I not want to share my life with a stranger who’s supposed to teach me stuff but is also “here to learn”? The truth of the matter is, I’m not here to make friends. I usually don’t attend a workshop or class with the goal of making friends with the instructor (though, it does occasionally happen, in which case I’d chitchat the shit out of the break). I’m here to learn what they have advertised to teach and then get on with my life. So I sign up, pay the fee, sometimes pass an exam, drive, park, walk, and show up, only to find that the teacher is withholding content until I offer some exciting story in return. I am not a very good storyteller, so I am very protective of my stories. I don’t offer them to just anybody.
Moreover, chances are, I just won’t like the instructor that much. It’s nothing personal — indeed, I barely knew them. But there’s a reason I’m not friends with everyone I meet. Most people I meet are fine people; I just don’t get along with all of them. Consequently, statistically, I won’t get along with the instructor either, and it’s not very enjoyable to share your personal stories or life insights with someone you don’t particularly like.
So, I’m sitting there, looking forward to learning how I can make my CV more readable, while the instructor, whom I’ve never met, don’t especially like, but trust professionally, is trying to find out where I did my High School and why I’m not a Canadian citizen.
That has been my experience with workshop presenters who are here to learn. I have also witnessed teachers doing the same to students. It’s hard to tell whether they mind it. There is most definitely a cultural difference on what questions are appropriate small talk questions. (For example, when I was little, the two most common small talk questions after “what’s your name” are “how old are you” and “how much do you earn”; I still do not mind people asking me these two questions. In fact, I often prefer to talk about my age than my citizenship status.) I don’t want to say that teachers should not small talk with students. It’s just way more delicate than many teachers realize. When teachers ask inappropriate questions, unless they are *real* inappropriate (read: legally problematic), students often cannot refuse to answer even if they feel uncomfortable. There are ways to do it skillfully, of course, but starting the class or workshop with a declaration that “I will learn about each and one of you” is presuming compliance on the part of the students. This is what I most dislike about the learning attitude.
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