Teaching Philosophy
The whole purpose of college and writing, to me, is being confronted with differing points of view, thoughtfully considering them to reflect on your own personal beliefs, and then confirming or changing who you are so that you might lead a more connected life true to yourself. This is why we so often read eco and ethnic literatures in all of my courses—both ask a person to displace themselves for a moment so that they can enter a another perspective, then come back to themselves with more information, empathy, and empowerment so that their lives might carry more impact than before. For me, this is a daily spiritual exercise as I read, write, and garden—a constant learning process I crave sharing with students as we grow together over the years, both changing and learning from each other in unforeseen ways.
In ten years of teaching I’ve had students share their most private experiences through writing and conversations in my office, the hallway, or over coffee. Students who’ve struggled with addiction, suicide, first loves, lost pets, estranged parents, and those who want to revel in mission trips, travel abroad, or the love of a swing set where their father confided in them. Students who, through the act of reading and writing their lives, challenge themselves, discovering who they are and what they really believe, and as a teacher it’s been my honor to help open the door writing allows.
I work with my students as much as they need or want, and as soon as they make a breakthrough, I raise the bar again. When a student finally shares that most intimate scene about their sister’s death, I ask them what it really means to them now, especially through looking at outside perspectives from others with similar experiences. This way, the student is encouraged to reflect more deeply and discover new insights, which also allows the reader to become more involved. When a student nails down a character’s dialogue or a perfect line of iambic pentameter in a sonnet, I’ll ask them to write three lines of perfect pentameter. We never settle for small victories, but we do celebrate them.
My writing and literature classes always begin with freewriting, sharing poems and essays, taking fieldtrips to sculpture gardens where we write about works of art from their perspective—which gets us accustomed to displacing ourselves, seeing ideas from other points of view on an equal footing. We work on focus and specificity, getting at the exact idea or image to open up the possibility of deeper discovery through thoughtful and careful writing: the shoes a woman puts on are now red-tipped heals scuffed by salsa dancing. The snowfall is now a sand dune of daisy petals in moonlight. So many new opportunities and discovery for reflection happen when a student writes, and thinks, with precision. Why was that woman salsa dancing? How can metaphorical thinking bridge the gap between you and me, between us and nature? What does a piece of literature do to make us more alive in our daily interactions?
Students leave my classes not just memorizing concepts and information, but actually living them. I ask them to push themselves, to never settle, to take leaps of faith and risk everything—this is where the real writing begins, or where real living begins. Through gaining insight on different points of view, reflecting on those perspectives via personal beliefs, and then rethinking one’s own beliefs and experiences to connect authentically with others, students gain a greater perspective into who they really are and how their lives enrich—and are enriched by—the world around them.
Student Comments
Course Evaluations
Curriculum Vitae
The whole purpose of college and writing, to me, is being confronted with differing points of view, thoughtfully considering them to reflect on your own personal beliefs, and then confirming or changing who you are so that you might lead a more connected life true to yourself. This is why we so often read eco and ethnic literatures in all of my courses—both ask a person to displace themselves for a moment so that they can enter a another perspective, then come back to themselves with more information, empathy, and empowerment so that their lives might carry more impact than before. For me, this is a daily spiritual exercise as I read, write, and garden—a constant learning process I crave sharing with students as we grow together over the years, both changing and learning from each other in unforeseen ways.
In ten years of teaching I’ve had students share their most private experiences through writing and conversations in my office, the hallway, or over coffee. Students who’ve struggled with addiction, suicide, first loves, lost pets, estranged parents, and those who want to revel in mission trips, travel abroad, or the love of a swing set where their father confided in them. Students who, through the act of reading and writing their lives, challenge themselves, discovering who they are and what they really believe, and as a teacher it’s been my honor to help open the door writing allows.
I work with my students as much as they need or want, and as soon as they make a breakthrough, I raise the bar again. When a student finally shares that most intimate scene about their sister’s death, I ask them what it really means to them now, especially through looking at outside perspectives from others with similar experiences. This way, the student is encouraged to reflect more deeply and discover new insights, which also allows the reader to become more involved. When a student nails down a character’s dialogue or a perfect line of iambic pentameter in a sonnet, I’ll ask them to write three lines of perfect pentameter. We never settle for small victories, but we do celebrate them.
My writing and literature classes always begin with freewriting, sharing poems and essays, taking fieldtrips to sculpture gardens where we write about works of art from their perspective—which gets us accustomed to displacing ourselves, seeing ideas from other points of view on an equal footing. We work on focus and specificity, getting at the exact idea or image to open up the possibility of deeper discovery through thoughtful and careful writing: the shoes a woman puts on are now red-tipped heals scuffed by salsa dancing. The snowfall is now a sand dune of daisy petals in moonlight. So many new opportunities and discovery for reflection happen when a student writes, and thinks, with precision. Why was that woman salsa dancing? How can metaphorical thinking bridge the gap between you and me, between us and nature? What does a piece of literature do to make us more alive in our daily interactions?
Students leave my classes not just memorizing concepts and information, but actually living them. I ask them to push themselves, to never settle, to take leaps of faith and risk everything—this is where the real writing begins, or where real living begins. Through gaining insight on different points of view, reflecting on those perspectives via personal beliefs, and then rethinking one’s own beliefs and experiences to connect authentically with others, students gain a greater perspective into who they really are and how their lives enrich—and are enriched by—the world around them.
Student Comments
Course Evaluations
Curriculum Vitae