Teaching dilemmas series: teaching with integrity

 Note: This is Part 2 in a series. If you are so inclined, I would encourage you to read the previous post and answer the poll question before reading on.

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There is a lot about teaching that I love. A lot.

I like making up assignments. It's fun to try to push myself to think of new and creative ways to have students develop the skills I think are important in a psychology degree (true fact: I do my assignments). I also like writing lectures and making slides. Deciding on what point I want to make, and then figuring out how to build up to that point, taking concepts apart to make the components clearer to students, making figures and schematics that can help students create mental schemas (did you see what I did there? ;))... that is challenging, but in a really fun way.

The thing I don't like is being responsible for making moral and ethical judgments about individual students. These are often subjective judgments that require me to hear about deeply personal circumstances that can be very uncomfortable for students to share with me. And after hearing that information, I often have to make decisions that students don't like. It sucks. I'd like to say yes to every request I get from students, but I have an ethical obligation to be fair and equitable. That means often saying no to extensions, or very late submissions, or grade bumps, or a plethora of special requests I get from students each semester.

When I want to know more about a topic, I either make it a lecture topic in one of my courses, or present it at a conference. Nothing inspires deep learning of a topic that the threat of having to publicly share what you've learned with other people! :D I am very interested in how academics make decisions about special requests or individual circumstances that are affecting students. My interest is inspired by a sincere desire to do the right thing. When confronted with these dilemmas, I am constantly asking myself, "Am I doing the right thing?". It helps immensely to know what other people are doing, what other options for resolution are out there. But it also helps to reflect on my past experiences. What decisions have I made in the past, and how did that turn out? What ethical approach did I take in that situation and why?

This post is a preamble to several upcoming posts on ethical ideologies as they apply to teaching. I have found one guy writing about this in the pedagogical literature. One guy. These decisions occupy such a huge component of my time and mental effort in the course of a semester that it seems like more pedagogical research should be out there. But no. There is just one guy. His name is Dr. Bruce Macfarlane, and the good news is that while he's an army of one, he has written very eloquently and intelligently on the topic. So I am going to take his lead and write individual posts about the different ethical positions, as described by Donelson Forsyth, and explain their application to teaching in higher education. Along the way, I will also reveal my own ethical ideology in approaching ethical dilemmas in teaching.

And of course, all of this will feed in to the conference presentation I've proposed with Dr. Suzanne Wood in Psychology at the Society of Teaching and Learning in Higher Education conference in June :D Two birds, one stone.

Teaching Dilemmas Series: Survey Question

I am going to be starting a series of posts on the ethics of teaching and ethical teaching dilemmas. To get things started, I wanted to present an ethical dilemma that is very familiar to me (and I'm sure, other educators). I have no illusions about the number of readers I have or the likelihood of engaging with this poll, but I still thought it would be fun to post. Perhaps in a few years, I'll have a consensus ;)

Here is the scenario: You are an instructor at a large university in Canada. You teach one of the larger second year courses in Chemistry. One of your students has come to office hours to ask for an exception. The student had completed the homework that was due yesterday and claims the homework was actually completed well in advance, but the student forgot to turn it in yesterday between classes because he was preoccupied by a recent breakup. Because the homework assignments are worth so little (only 5% per assignment), your course policy is that late submissions are not accepted. You don't know it, but there is another student in the class with a similar situation, except it was the death of his dog rather than a break-up. That student has decided to accept the consequences of his actions, and will not approach you to ask for an exception. The student in your office is one that you know very well, and you believe his story about the break-up. He is asking you to make an exception to this rule and allow him to turn in his assignment without penalty.

I see you

Students enrolled in large courses often think the prof can't see them – that we must be looking at a sea of faces, and we can't tell one from the other. Life pro tip: I can see you. All of you.

Ok, I don't teach in Convocation Hall, so I can't speak to a 1500 person audience, but in my courses with 200-250 students, I absolutely know when someone is out of place. I know if there is a new note-taker in for the day, or if someone has brought their boyfriend/girlfriend to a lecture. I can often tell when students are surfing the internet, or texting. The reason I don't call people out for this is because it doesn't bother me, but don't mistake that for me not noticing.

Last year I had a student who was awesome. She came to class regularly, and she looked interested. I love that – when I can see all the faces, and they all have a look of "when will this end??!", I find myself focussed on the handful of students who are still with me. She was one of those students.

I almost told her so at the midterm review. After the review session, she came to get some help on a concept that students often struggle with (ROC curves in Perception), and after a few minutes of further explanation on my part, her face lit up. She figured it out. As she walked out of the class, I wanted to say, "Hey thanks for giving me a friendly face to look for in lecture. Your interest keeps me going." I didn't though, because I felt self-conscious about it, and I thought, "I will tell her another time."

That was about 2 days before the midterm, which she missed. She also missed the final exam. She deferred her deferred exam – actually, she deferred her exams, because she missed several of her finals that semester. As happens to many (too many) students at UofT, she started to struggle with anxiety and depression. Her struggles with mental health nearly derailed her undergraduate degree, and I think about her walking away from me at the midterm review session with some regret. Would things have turned out differently if I had reached out to that student?

Maybe not. Anxiety and depression often take on a life of their own, and a kind word from me probably wouldn't have prevented her struggle. But I want students to know that I genuinely care. I've been through tough times myself – I have a vivid memory of sobbing, really, truly sobbing, while cleaning my apartment in the 1st year of undergrad because I was so overwhelmed and just couldn't studying anymore. Seriously, picture that: a disheveled young woman loudly sobbing while slowly loading dishes into the dishwasher before continuing to sob while watering plants and dusting the livingroom. It's kind of funny... now.  

Anyway, I just wanted to say two things. One: you're not invisible. I know exactly what you're up to. And two: I know undergrad is hard. I've been there. If you're struggling, (a) you are not alone, and (b) there are lots of supports on campus. I recommend starting with your college registrar, but you can also try CAPS. Either way, with exams coming up, please be kind to yourself.