Teaching Experience (as instructor)
- Philosophical Perspectives on the Humanities, I
(6 sections total: Fall 2011, Fall 2010 & Fall 2009: University of Chicago)
Part of a year-long introduction to the Humanities for first-year students, this quarter examines the themes of justice and the good life in ancient Greek philosophy and literature
- Philosophical Perspectives on the Humanities, II
(6 sections total: Winter 2012, Winter 2011 & Winter 2010: University of Chicago)
In the winter, we focus on knowledge and skepticism in modern philosophy and literatures quarter examines the themes of justice and the good life in ancient Greek philosophy and literature
- Philosophical Perspectives on the Humanities, III
(5 sections total: Spring 2011, Spring 2010 & Spring 2004: University of Chicago)
In the final quarter, we examine ethics and freedom in modern philosophy and literature
- American Philosophy
(1 section: Spring 2009: Rowan University, Glassboro, NJ)
An introduction to philosophy via classic American works, with readings from Colonial philosophers, Transcendentalists, Pragmatists, & American analytic philosophers
- Modern Philosophy
(1 section: Winter 2009: Temple University, Philadelphia, PA)
A survey of the modern period, from Descartes to Kant
- Introduction to Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason
(1 section: Winter 2004: University of Chicago)
A tutorial for senior undergrads, involving a close reading of Kant’s first Critique
Teaching Experience (as course assistant)
- Analytic Philosophy: Michael Kremer, Spring 2003 (University of Chicago)
- History of Philosophy II (Early Modern): Dan Garber, Winter 2002 (University of Chicago)
- History of Philosophy I (Ancient): Rachel Barney, Autumn 2002 (University of Chicago)
Personal Statement of Teaching Philosophy
Teaching, for me, is a fascinating and integral part of my vocation as an academic philosopher. I love interacting with my students in the classroom, seeing their understanding and intellectual confidence grow. As a way of explaining my approach to teaching, I will focus on three main points: the importance of class-discussion, the typical format of my class sessions, and, finally, the aims I have for my students.
With regard to the first point, class discussion is a core feature of my teaching method. Students who actively participate in the classroom are more likely to engage with the material and are thus more likely to understand it and write well about it. I strive to create a classroom environment that is conducive to open discussion. I am sympathetic to the fears many students have about speaking in class, and I ensure that they treat one another respectfully. Most of my classes are based primarily on group discussion, and I have found that this approach works well for classes of up to forty students or so. For larger classes, I would lecture for a larger portion of the class time.
Given the prominence of discussion in my teaching, the challenge for me is to encourage effective student dialogue. I do so in several ways. I provide handouts for each assigned text that is meant to guide their reading of the work and to prepare them to discuss it. Included in this portfolio is a sample handout, for Plato’s Republic. As you will see, it contains an overview of the work, with a breakdown of the topics we cover in each session, including a list of questions to guide their reading. In the class itself, I generally begin with a very brief lecture, proving additional historical context and setting up the topics for the day.
Once discussion begins, I see my role as twofold. First, I make my own contributions to the discussion, by providing suggestions and asking questions. More importantly, however, I referee the conversation, reacting to issues as they come up. For example, if the conversation heads down an unproductive path, I redirect it. This may sound like an obvious point, but in fact, I believe this is one of my most difficult challenges. It takes a fine balance to keep the discussion productive without dominating the conversation. In some cases, particular students can cause problems. Last year, for example, I had a student who was unusually prone to long digressions. He was a good kid, and I certainly did not wish to repress his enthusiasm, but he was distracting the other students and getting the course off schedule. My solution involved taking my role as referee literally and buying a set of soccer referee cards. On the yellow card, I wrote “Digression,” on the red card, “Flagrant Digression.” I began to card the student whenever he launched into an irrelevant point. The strategy worked well. He and the other students found it hilarious, and I was able to refocus the conversation without antagonizing him. (I would even flag myself from time to time when I went off on a tangent.)
A second issue that threatens the quality of our class discussion is simply the difficulty of the material. I try always to remind myself just how foreign the texts we have students read will appear to them. Of course, this is especially true when teaching the history of philosophy, where the problem of historical distance from our own concerns and modes of expression can add to the students’ puzzlement. I sometimes find it helpful to step back from the historical context: focusing on the underlying problem that is motivating a particular philosopher and considering it from our own perspective—by stepping away from the historical language in which it is expressed. I find that this helps students feel the force of the issues at stake in these inquiries. If the material on a given day is particularly obscure, I’ll entertain my students to keep them motivated. I make a lot of jokes in class, and I am not above using props. (I keep a cue ball and eight ball in my office desk to employ when discussing Hume and Kant on causality.)
In my courses, a typical day will involve a shift between broader examination of the assigned text and detailed exegesis of a key passage. Perhaps an example would be helpful. This quarter we spent a day on the Crito. We began by talking about the overall structure of the text and thinking about its relationship to the Apology. We then turned to a detailed examination of Socrates’ argument for the conclusion that he should not escape. We reconstructed the argument on the board as a group, and then we evaluated its strengths and weaknesses. We finished the class by exploring the more general philosophical implications of his commitment to the laws of Athens, focusing in particular on whether this commitment preserved room for a meaningful notion of civil disobedience. Many of my class sessions follow roughly this format. That said, I do try to mix things up from time to time, as a way of keeping my students motivated. So, for example, we watched the movie Memento last year as a way of thinking about the role of memory in Locke’s account of personal identity. More recently, we collectively drew Plato’s cave in all its detail on the board. This was fun and engaging, but it also forced them to really think about the details of the allegory, and what their philosophical implications might be.
Finally, I’d like to close by mentioning the aims I have for my students. One of my primary concerns as a teacher is skill development. Most students will not go on to become philosophers, and few of them will remember the details of the systems they are reading. But even if they forget Kant’s various formulations of the categorical imperative, the skills they acquire and refine in working through difficult texts such as the Groundwork will continue to benefit them throughout their lives. Students develop important critical reasoning skills in grappling with the various sides of a philosophical issue. They learn to recognize and make arguments in assessing a position. They also become better writers, learning to express their thoughts more precisely and clearly. In my teaching, I encourage students to think about their potential readership: anticipating their likely responses and addressing their background knowledge and concerns. I also place great emphasis on the process of composing philosophical prose: planning, writing, and revising their work. I encourage students to meet with me to discuss their proposed topics, and, when the class size makes it practical, I sometimes have them turn in an outline or short summary before composing a full draft. Finally, I always take care to provide constructive feedback on the completed written work of my students, emphasizing a few key suggestions for their next assignment.
Alongside these skills, however, I also aim to instill in my students certain attitudes toward the work they are reading. First, I encourage a spirit of inquisitiveness. I want them to see canonical philosophers such as Plato or Kant as figures whose thought remains alive and relevant today. I want them to experience these texts as still capable of challenging our beliefs. There is a second attitude that is equally important to me, but for which I do not have an exact name. What I am looking for here is a balance between the principle of charity and a healthy, questioning skepticism. I want them to question a Socratic text as Socrates would have questioned them: challenging the argument wherever possible. At the same time, however, I want them to work to find the best, most plausible interpretation of the text. When a student raises an objection, I encourage the class to consider how the author might have responded to it. In our discussions, we move back and forth between charitable reconstruction and skeptical challenge, seeking, in this way, to find the best possible understanding of the philosopher we are reading. When my students embrace these attitudes, then I believe I have succeeded as a teacher.