A Good Class Spoiled!

Two years ago, ailment I reached a point where I began to regard student evaluations as “a good course spoiled.” You may wonder about that phrase. Let me explain.

There is a famous quote that “golf is a good walk spoiled.” You may have even said it. And for sure, view it can be. It doesn’t matter how positive your attitude is, unhealthy or how much you practice, or whether you have played the course 100 times. The results of your efforts are objective. You can either hit the ball or you can’t. You can’t hide your natural abilities, or lack thereof. They are on display for everyone to see. You are quickly humbled on a golf course.

Heightened or Disheartened?

Now, I love to golf. I love being outside walking for 4-5 hours. I love figuring out yardages, avoiding bunkers, and thinking about where I want the ball to land. I love the feeling of a great shot, when the ball shoots through the air towards the target.

But most of all, I love how my awareness is heightened on a golf course. I notice the wind. I appreciate the slightest contours of the putting surface. I breathe deeply.

But I don’t always have those great feelings. Golf can be a good walk spoiled. The joy is gone and you are left feeling disheartened. After 15 years playing the game, I have learned that in order for me to enjoy the experience, keep improving, and stay sane is to remind myself of another famous quote: Golf is not a game of perfect.

On a Scale from 1—10

But what does this have to do with teaching and student evaluations? After 10 years of teaching in Biblical Studies and RELS Departments, my attitude towards student evaluations changed and I was concerned. It was more than just an emotional reaction to “constructive criticism” which I liken to having an artist create a caricature portrait.

You already know you have a big nose or a large forehead or a noticeable gap tooth but it is unsettling to receive verbal or visual confirmation that someone else knows it as well. It was also more than focusing on one or two negative comments. You know the ratio, for every 1 “below average” evaluation there were 10 others that were “above average” or “excellent.”

I loved teaching but the joy was beginning to fade and I was becoming disheartened.

My, My, My…

My previous optimism, “what can I learn” approach had been replaced by the more acerbic “what unrealistic expectations do students have.” I know that a big part of my frustration stemmed from the fact that I was very diligent on updating and improving all aspects of my courses. I really wondered how the students were not getting that.

I became irritated at the questions and resented the process that allowed students to rate, among other things, my overall knowledge of the course material or my ability to effectively organize lecture content. What was the point? What was I supposed to learn from a student’s rating of my overall knowledge of the course material or my ability to organize that material?

What are You Saying—Really?

The responses began to spoil what I thought had been a good course. I didn’t want this to happen. I love teaching. I care. But I was struggling to understand what I was supposed to learn from evaluations that are objective—you either hit the mark or you don’t.

As I shared my frustrations with a friend, she said something that completely changed my understanding. She said, “Of course you are a good teacher. I don’t think that’s the point. These evaluations just let you know what you spend the majority of your time communicating to your students. We spend time on what we think is important.”

Three Old Questions in a New Light

When I went back to my evaluations and re-read the questions recognizing that I will spend time communicating what I think is important, I realized that the ratings were not a caricature of my abilities nor were they an unrealistic list of student expectations. The three questions that bothered me most now made sense.

• Does the professor clarify learning objectives? No, I don’t spend much time on that because learning is a personal experience and I don’t know what you are going to learn.
• Does the professor demonstrate breadth of knowledge of the content? No, I don’t spend much time telling you how much I know because the course content isn’t about me and my PhD tells you I know the material.
• Does the professor effectively organize course material? No, I don’t spend much time telling you exactly how the lecture will proceed because I will skip slides or alter the course outline if I think it is necessary.

It made a huge difference both personally and professionally when I took this approach. As teachers, we communicate knowledge. That is our job and for most of us, that is our passion. Student evaluations shine a spotlight on the knowledge we think is important because we will expend our energy, efforts, and talents on what we value.

What are you communicating about what constitutes knowledge? Is knowledge found in facts, applications, experiences, systems, or solutions? What are you communicating about our interaction with knowledge? Should it be accepted, tested, researched, organized, experienced, or applied? What is the role of knowledge? Should it persuade us, empower us, transform us, affect us, challenge us, or judge us? What persuades you: Research, Practical Application, Personal Experience, Social Impact, Transformation, or Preservation?

A “Communications Game”

What was I supposed to learn from student evaluations? That teaching is not a “game of perfect” but it is a communications game. I think I always knew that but now I know what I’m communicating…knowledge that is practical, personally relevant, and transformational.

Student evaluations don’t have to spoil a good course. Use them to heighten your awareness: notice what you value, recognize what you communicate, appreciate the diversity of each student’s learning experience, and breathe deeply.

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