The Teaching of Psychology in Autobiography: Perspectives from Exemplary Psychology Teachers Edited by Trisha A. Benson, Caroline Burke, Ana Amstadter, Ryan Sidey, Vincent Hevern, Barney Beins, & Bill Buskist.
42 An Evolution of Emphasis: From Learning to Teach to Teaching to Learn Jason F. Sikorski Auburn University pp. 289-294

I remember distinctly my first day in the classroom as a teacher of psychology. It represents one of those crystal clear memories that never fades with time. I had stayed up the entire night before attempting to match names with faces from the student picture roll that I had received that day. I thought I might work toward acquiring an edge by remembering all of my students' names right away. I had already planned my personal schedule for the next three weeks. My plan for the first class, feeble in retrospect, was for me to present a listing of controversial psychological theories and concepts and encourage students to discuss and challenge them. The grayish circles beneath my eyes, which would become a trademark of mine throughout graduate school, told the story of a sleepless night characterized by intermittent bouts of frustration, preparation, rumination, and anticipation. After all that, the first comment offered by a student was simple, but excruciating. Only three minutes into my "discussion," he asked if I thought I was "a little too young to be keeping the entire class on the first day." All that time I spent the night before, and not once did I even consider that they would not want to hear me. Some say that life comes full circle. As my travels continue, I am learning that this old adage has some truth to it. Asking me to write alongside some of the most respected psychology teachers in the country leaves me feeling excited and honored.

The truth is that I am still a graduate student concluding my training in Clinical Psychology at Auburn University. Through my involvement with The Society for the Teaching of Psychology (STP; Division 2 of the American Psychological Association [APA]), I have enjoyed developing my personal and professional identity as a teacher of psychology. I worked hard to be and active contributor to STP, and some excellent teachers took notice (Linda Noble, Bill Hill, Charles Brewer, Bill Buskist). Our STP task force on Early Career Development evolved into the Graduate Student Teaching Association (GSTA). I was eventually privileged to be nominated as the first GSTA Chairman, had a voting interest on the Executive Committee, and played a small role in providing needed resources to beginning teachers (Prieto & Meyers, 1999). I became involved in scholarly activities on teaching-related issues, and even began corresponding with instructors who I felt had influenced my teaching considerably (e.g., Charles Brewer, James Korn, Linda Noble). My student colleagues at Auburn University have helped me develop as a teacher and person, and eventually voted me as the Graduate Teaching Assistant of the Year for 1999 and as Most Devoted Graduate Student in 2004. In 2004, I was also awarded the McKeachie Early Career Award, an honor that the STP bestows upon individuals beginning their career as a teacher of psychology.

Whether it has been during my practicum experiences, clinical internship, conference presentations, writing ventures, or therapy experiences, my job has been to be humbled, although with humility has come increased drive. Like my father and grandfather before me, who together have kept their gas station running in my hometown for over 50 years, I can work and prepare. With dutiful effort, and my good fortune to become associated with passionate mentors, I have managed to become more confident, mindful, and tactful as a teacher. Perhaps the journey that I have undertaken is similar to the one followed by many in our field. Just maybe, I might be able to resonate with graduate students and beginning teachers of psychology. In short, my story is probably a lot like yours.

My Early Development as a Teacher

I learned that I was teaching two classes, Introduction to Psychology and an Experimental Psychology Laboratory class, only three days prior to the beginning of the semester. I received the textbooks, a couple of sample syllabi, and wishes of good luck from the faculty at my Master's program. I had two primary goals when I taught then. First, and most important, I felt that it was imperative for me to cover as much material as possible, which meant that I would, at least briefly during the course of my lectures, verbalize the answers to every question that would be posed on every examination or quiz. I then would prepare what I believe to be the single most prolific collection of lecture notes ever constructed by a college teacher in any discipline. Without exaggerating a bit, I wrote out my lectures word-for-word. In fact, I used colored pens to highlight places where I would change the intonation of my voice for emphasis. I began to notice that students were not taking notes. Instead, they were bringing their textbooks to class and merely highlighting sections that I mentioned. After all, those passages were guaranteed to be on the test. Students in my earliest classes had no grade contingent consequences for failing to read their texts critically (Sikorski, Rich, Saville, Buskist, Drogan, & Davis, 2002).

I also wanted to be available to my students. I had been in college long enough to know what it felt like to have a teacher who was approachable and helpful. I desired to be accountable for my students' success, yet I am not certain that they learned much beyond how to succeed in my classes. It was only later when I read about and saw how one's most useful life lessons can be taught during office hours as opposed to the classroom (see McKeachie, 1999).

I was proud when my first set of students evaluated me well. They described me as helpful, motivated, meticulous, and dedicated. When I moved to Auburn University for my doctoral training, I was thrilled to learn that I was assigned to be a teaching assistant in a Social Psychology course during my first semester. After all, I knew I could do this. I was a good teacher according to my students; and I enjoyed the preparatory work, lecturing, and advising more than anything I had done in graduate school. In fact, I decided after that year, that I would strive to be a professor of psychology. I had found my calling, and I thought I was damn good at it. Then, I met Bill Buskist. It would not be long till I would really be learning to teach.

Working at Defining Myself as a Teacher

At Auburn University, all first-year graduate students in the psychology graduate programs are required to teach. We all shared an office and taught sections of an introductory Social Psychology course led by Buskist. I read the textbook for the course, and took detailed notes on the chapters, several weeks before stepping foot on the Auburn campus. I wanted to be ready in case Buskist grilled us about the course during the first week. This teaching exercise would be no walk in the park. I was informed that intensive supervision of my duties in the classroom would be provided. Not only would Buskist visit our classrooms and observe us teach, but he also led a weekly course in which he would address questions about common dilemmas encountered while teaching. We were required to create our personal teaching portfolios and deliver presentations to our peers on topics in psychology. These presentations would be rated by our peers and by Buskist on several criteria. The assigned text for the course was McKeachie's (1999) classic, Teaching Tips.

Of all the early demands that were placed on me during the beginning of my graduate training at Auburn, teaching was the one in which I felt best prepared to succeed. Most of my graduate student colleagues had never even taught a course in college, and many openly expressed their reservations about teaching students who were not much older or wiser than themselves. I felt as if I was much further along than that. I had been the teacher of record for two college courses already. I had learned how to structure office hours, discourage cheating, catch cheaters, prepare examinations, develop lectures, deliver lectures, and help students succeed in my course. To be honest, I was more worried about statistics and grasping the mountains of complicated readings that I was expected to review each night for my graduate courses.

I spent a considerable amount of time constructing my first lecture that Buskist and my student peers would rate. I decided to speak about relaxation techniques, and even included an exercise in which I would lead my audience into a deep and everlasting calm. I wrote out the entire lecture and did not spare a single detail. To be honest, I felt like it was a homerun. My student peers offered feedback on how detailed my talk had been, and others indicated that I was well prepared for the task. Yahhhhhhtzeeeee! No problem, another link in the restraining chain of graduate school had been broken.

Buskist delivered his feedback in his office, face-to-face, with no one else around. He held a clipboard in his hand with a rating form attached. On the top of the form, the name 'SIKORSKI' was written in capital letters. He videotaped our talks, and sure enough, he had a television and VCR in his office with my tape cued up. Upon sitting down, he immediately began playing the tape. It was not playing for long. In fact, we only ended up getting through about 1/5th of my lecture, as he repeatedly stopped the tape to call my attention to mechanical errors that I had committed. Rather than praise me for my detailed notes, he pointed out how I was reading my lecture word-for-word. He laughed when suggesting that I probably wrote down my jokes before using them. In fact, I had. He observed how infrequently I moved from the lectern, and pointed at my face on the screen to highlight how my expression rarely changed during the lecture. His count indicated that I had used the word 'OK' exactly 41 times, and he then queried me on why I had my hands in my pockets throughout. According to Buskist, I came across insincerely because I was trying to convince myself and my students that I was someone else; someone smarter and more respectable.

As he concluded the massacre, I mean meeting, he leaned in closely as if he had something important to say. I braced for the dagger, yet he had now begun the process of building me back up. His praise was not specific like his criticism, it was vast and meaningful. His compliments pertained to passion, knowledge, and accountability. He stressed how obvious it was that I enjoyed teaching, and urged me to take my interests and broaden them. He referred me to teaching scholars like Bill McKeachie, Charles Brewer, and Jim Korn, and stressed that these were psychologists who acquired something beautiful and mysterious as they learned to teach. I read what he referred me to, and I got it. For too long, I had been leaping over obstacles placed in front of me, yet I always landed feeling the same as I did when the leap began. All I was doing was overcoming the obstacles of graduate school, not finding ways to grow, be challenged, and improve as a person and a professional.

That Friday, during my lecture, I brought only an outline of my talk to guide me. On top of the outline, I wrote the words "DON'T SAY OK" in capital letters. I walked all around the room, even in the back. My students followed me with their eyes. To my surprise, I survived. Students began to ask questions, loosened up, laughed, and participated in applying their readings to things in which they were interested. I let them do it. Questions in office hours began differently. The year before, students always began by inquiring whether there was a good chance that a term or theory would be on the examination. More frequently now, students recounted how something we discussed in class had popped up last weekend while they were at the bar, a party, or talking to their crazy uncle. I was having a lot of fun. These minor changes I made were working. More importantly, my worldview was changing, and my focus was broadening past myself and my accomplishments. My students came into focus. I wanted to harness my privilege to influence their lives.

The Teaching Psychology class continued throughout my first year. I found myself doing work for it first. I enjoyed it so much that I was using it as an excuse to procrastinate for my other classes. My "lectures" were evolving into 50 minute discussion/activity sessions, and my students were responding well. I was fascinated by how a couple of minor mechanical changes could deliver such huge rewards, so I kept changing and trying to improve. I read more about teaching, shared my ideas with others about what I had read, and spent a considerable amount of time amassing what I had read into a voluminous teaching portfolio. I took another teaching class. I spent most of these classes arguing and yelling with other student colleagues who were interested in teaching. It was more than just a class now.

For the first time in my academic life, I was not just doing work toward a desired end. I was not keeping track of my publications or comparing myself to anyone else in any way when it came to my teaching. I was just doing what I wanted to do. There was no end in sight, I was simply happy, content, and interested doing work on teaching and hanging around teachers. I made sure to always reserve time to read, write, and think about teaching. In being myself, I was creating an honest professional identity. In living life the way I wished, I found a more supreme sense of personal fulfillment and happiness.

The Examined Life of a Teacher

My statement of teaching philosophy describes how I approach teaching and learning in the classroom, and it applies to the teaching and learning that I do in other life contexts. Whether I am working with a client in therapy, struggling with cluster analysis and structural equation modeling, or teaching college freshmen, the goal must be learning. Not just for the audience, but for me as well. There is something truly liberating about doing what I do and loving it. There is no award, accolade, or experience that can possibly represent the end of a teacher's journey. Individual minds, and our collective society, need teachers. We, as psychologists, are supposed to be the experts when it comes to things like thinking, behaving, feeling, and learning. Thus, we are in a truly unique position to apply these principles to our work with students (Sikorski & Keeley, 2003). What a grand tapestry upon which to work. Indeed the future is our tapestery, for ourselves and those whom we serve.

The honor of receiving the 2004 Wilbert J. McKeachie Early Career Award occurred during a beautiful ceremony in Hawaii at the APA conference. When I stood up to get that award, I looked down to see people like Charles Brewer and Jim Korn in the audience. They were happy, and looked at me in a manner to suggest that they knew what I was feeling. Either that or they were laughing because Buskist had convinced me that everyone would be wearing suits in the sweltering heat. When I arrived as the only suit amongst a sea of bright Hawaiian shirts, it was clear I had been had.

Advice and Final Thoughts

I wish that I would have learned earlier that I am in charge of my career and my life. Sure, there will always be hoops to go through. You might be asked to do things that you do not want to do. Yet, you are always in charge of what your choices. We can decide how accountable we will be in trying to impact our students, and to be sure, our society. If you think you can make a difference teaching, and you find it fun, then do what I did. Get feedback on your teaching, find a teaching mentor who is willing to help, and then join STP and rub elbows with people who teach better than you. Use principles that you learned about in your graduate curriculum in psychology when you are in the classroom (e.g., Halpern et al., 1998). Model hard work, accountability, and flexibility for your students. Conduct research on teaching, and exert effort toward really watching how others speak and teach. You will inevitably learn something helpful.

References

Halpern, D. F., Smothergill, D. W., Allen, M., Baker, S., Baum, C., Best, D., Ferrari, J., Geisinger, K. F., Gilden, E. R., Hester, M., Keith-Spiegel, P., Kierniesky, N. C., McGovern, T. V., McKeachie, W. J., Prokasy, W. F., Szuchman, L. T., Vasta, R., & Weaver, K. A. (1998). Scholarship in psychology: A paradigm for the twenty-first century. American Psychologist, 53, 1292-1297.

McKeachie, W. J. (1999). Teaching tips: Strategies, research, and theory for college and university teachers (10th ed.). Boston, MA: Houghton-Mifflin.

Prieto, L. R., & Meyers, S. A. (1999). Effects of training and supervision on the self-efficacy of psychology graduate teaching assistants. Teaching of Psychology, 26, 264-266.

Sikorski, J. F., & Keeley, J. (2003). Teaching to influence. Psychology Teacher Network, 13(3), 2-4.

Sikorski, J. F., Rich, K., Saville, B. K., Buskist, W., Drogan, O., & Davis, S. F. (2002). Student use of their introductory texts: Comparative survey findings from two universities. Teaching of Psychology, 29, 312-313.

This page was first posted online on November 12, 2005 and was last updated on November 12, 2005

Copyright 2005 APA Division 2, Society for the Teaching of Psychology. All rights reserved. Copyright Policy. Copyright in this web site is owned by APA Division 2, Society for the Teaching of Psychology. Copyright in individual articles and similar items are generally owned by the author(s), except as otherwise noted. You may review the materials in this site for information purposes and may download and print ONE copy of the materials for your own personal use, including use in your classes and/or sharing with indiviual colleagues. No other permission is granted to you to print, copy, reproduce, or distribute additional copies of these materials. Anyone who wishes to print, copy, reproduce or distribute additional copies must obtain the permission of the copyright owner.