Presidents in the Classroom

The writer is a current president.

As a longtime university president, I don’t get many opportunities to be in the classroom with undergraduate students, but when the occasion presents itself, I am all in as an opportunity to be reminded of why we do what we do.

I taught this semester with a colleague, and I found the experience to be meaningful and joy-filled.

As I returned to the classroom, however, I had in the back of mind the many exhortations from faculty members about how today’s students aren’t ready for college, they can’t (or won’t) do the work, they’re needy and disinterested, they make teaching a drag instead of the joyful profession we recall.

Now, let’s put aside nostalgia and take at the face value what our faculty are experiencing in the classroom—and then let’s explore what we are called to do as educators when the lived experiences of our students collide with our own notions of what counts for academic success.

I will admit that I am an educator of a certain age who was formed by traditional pedagogical methods, but I experienced in the classroom this semester what it means to teach the students who are in front of us—and it was driven by my much-younger colleague who helped me understand two critically important aspects of teaching and learning for this generation.

Each week, I came into the classroom and my colleague had put on the sound system some piece of contemporary music that I didn’t recognize. One week, it was Chance the Rapper, whose Chicago-based experiences inform his (often profane!) lyrics, but tell a compelling story of life in the city for those marginalized and victimized. As the students explored the story behind those lyrics, they came forward with insights and nuances that stretched my understanding.

This is pedagogy that adapts to the learner and that refuses to impose methods that stifle creativity and the voices that matter: the voices of students. Combined with innovative experiential learning opportunities, co-creation of the course curriculum, and paying attention to what keeps students engaged, our course showed me what our students deserve in their college experience, not as an entitlement, but as a gift that invites them into the wonder of learning for the moment we find ourselves in.

And that serves as a foundation for the second aspect of teaching and learning for this generation: How do we honor what our students bring to the classroom from their own lived experiences that reflects excellences beyond our traditional Western values and attitudes? I believe our students are teaching me the value of what might be called “democratic excellences.”

In a discussion of climate justice, a Native student shared ways of caring for creation that don’t always pop up in the literature. In a discussion of architecture, a formerly unhoused student described the brutalist features of urban architecture that are meant to exclude rather than offer sanctuary. In a session on immigration, a refugee student provided a compelling alternative narrative of our country’s broken immigration system. The challenge for those of us who teach this generation is to embrace these forms of wisdom, these democratic excellences, that make our teaching and learning richer and more authentic.

Adaptive pedagogy and democratic excellences—lessons even an educator of a certain age can learn—are lessons that all of us must embrace if we hope to meet the needs and aspirations of our students today. I give thanks every day for my “hip” colleague (as the students describe her), who is showing me a promising way forward.

The writer is a current president.

This past fall, I taught a course in an online doctoral program. I learned a lot about how the learning management technology has changed since I last taught. Navigating it myself gave me a deeper sense of the challenges of keeping up-to-date that faculty face and of the benefits of technology, including better organization and engagement with students across their experiences, professional interests, and aspirations; ease of grading; managing my own instructor responsibilities; and access to a handy repository, among other conveniences.

Learning the platform was new, but the extensive training from the university was helpful. Of course, I learned a lot from my students, who were primarily working professionals who came from a range of industries. Grading and commenting in a timely manner proved to be a challenge. Needless to say, I was sleep-deprived the entire fall semester as a result.

Teaching allowed me to stay connected to my core mission and the purpose of my work in a different way and brought me closer to students, even though they were not students enrolled at my institution. It reminded me that I needed to differentiate instruction for my learners, just as I differentiate my management and coaching with each administrator.

It gave me new perspective into the challenges that faculty face and the gratification they get from watching students grow. The co-construction of knowledge and analysis of phenomena happen in such a deep and energizing way, even in an online classroom, in a way that getting through agendas in successive meetings will never allow.

Teaching gave me new insights into how we can innovate around technology, pedagogy, and the student experience. It brought me closer to all that adult students juggle as they remain committed to advancing their education. It was an inspiring experience that allowed me to learn more about many students and about trends in different industries.

I recommend that every president try to teach every two to three years. Technologies change rapidly, though student needs don’t change as drastically. It is a gratifying and challenging experience that faculty view as giving us more legitimacy, insight, and empathy, and it humanizes us when we speak with them about how we want to evolve things.