Some thoughts on "teaching" from a person-centered perspective
Creating an environment in which learning can take place is more important than teaching information outright.
With the spring 2023 semester wrapped up and a year of teaching under my belt, I’ve been reflecting on how I want to show up in the classroom. With this latest semester, it was for 3 classes on psychological wellbeing.
Person-centered teaching, for me, is not about teaching at all. It is, rather, about the facilitation of learning. These to me are two entirely different functions of a person in positions of authority within learning environments. The function of the teacher is to provide some information to others who are less knowledgeable or experienced, whereas the function of the learning facilitator is to merely serve as a conduit for information to be learned by others in their own way. Teachers are individuals who, typically, wield power over those deemed “students.” Learning facilitators provide space in which those who come to learn can do just that—in their own way and unencumbered by various obstacles which are usually placed upon learners.
For me, because I straddle the divide between these two positions, there is a continual struggle between how I want to show up and what is expected of me both from the university and the learners in my classes. The academic expectation is that I am there to provide information. While that is certainly what I do, to an extent—it is unavoidable—I much prefer when the learners drive discussion and their own acquisition of knowledge. Ideally, they would read material before arriving to class and then we would discuss it (I mostly utilize freely available online textbooks and resources for this). Learner motivation and other circumstances sometimes makes this difficult: Most individuals in the general education course I teach have been non-psychology majors, and even those who are, and who are interested, have external demands which can limit their participation in class.
I typically arrive to class with some general idea for what I want to talk about based on the university-provided syllabus outlining a general direction, but leave some room for flexible adjustment in-the-moment. For instance, in the last two weeks of the spring 2023 semester we focused on psychological conditions, generally of a neurological nature. Topics included the medical and social models of disability; debate on the implications of condition-based as opposed to disorder-based terms and other disability language matters; and autism, ADHD, schizophrenia, psychosis, and Alzheimer’s-related diagnoses, but also veered off that track as learners interjected their own interests (one was interested in the relationship between color and mood, for example, so we spent a few minutes on some general correlational associations). In all those instances, I provided some general, foundational knowledge and information focused on busting myths and misconceptions, corrected factual misunderstandings, and made space for debate based on prior knowledge as well as some of what I introduced. Time was also made, separately, for discussion around topics of importance and interest to the learners; I facilitated these conversations with the aim that the participants focus on empathically listening, authentically responding, and receiving each other with positive regard and respect.
There is a considerable amount of uncertainty to this way of being in the classroom. Individual levels of learner motivation and enthusiasm, particularly early on in the semester, tend to be low and play into how we develop a sense of community across the duration of the 16-week course. A major contributing factor in this respect is that typically, the learners, who tend to see themselves as people who should be given information, have not previously been given, and otherwise do not receive, choice in their learning. My walking into the room, making administrative announcements alongside a preface regarding our general area of focus for the day, and then asking where they want to take that class session is usually met with an initial, cool silence. Probing the origins of this silence has revealed that they generally, and genuinely, do not know what to say next when presented with choice. They do not know how to respond to this granting of control over their learning; they are not used to this autonomy, especially because they are usually simultaneously in other classes where the instructors tend to give them at least most of what they think should be known. Sometimes, given the freedom to learn their own material, a learner will assert themselves right away; other times, and I am perfectly content to do this, we sit in silence for a few minutes while thoughts are gathered. Inevitably, someone speaks up, but there is a process of unfolding, of idea germination, within this; responses do not tend to come right away. I tend, most often, not to lecture in the traditional, Powerpoint slides-based manner.
When I do, it is in an organized but relatively unstructured way; I try to flow with learner questions and comments in a back-and-forth, conversational manner so that the information I want to convey is transmitted while at the same time there is also space for what those in the room want to know and have to say. I give the option to contribute or not where general discussion, but usually not specific questioning of a particular person, is concerned (if I’m asking a direct question, there’s a good reason for it). It is up to the learner to respond or not; they are learning either way, in their own manner. My experience has been that they respond well to this once they are used to it. Those who talk do so; those who remain silent do so.
Here lies another tension: The expectation of learner participation and the condition of worth that is created when grades are assessed on participation. There is no getting around the necessity of grading in this case, and I do grade based on my honest perceptions of each learner’s participation over the course of the semester. However, my view is that college learners are responsible for their own education. While non-participation impedes my discussion-based way of doing things and can be frustrating to me at times because of that, my underlying stance through even those difficult moments is that if they want to contribute to conversation and discussion, or if they do not, that is their choice and the class moves on regardless. Some people are just quiet; they observe and internalize and when you least expect it; they jump into the conversation, and it turns out they have indeed been paying much attention (or their close observations of class shine through in their assigned papers). Others have anxiety. The reasons for non-participation are many and I do not view learners differently as persons if that is their choice. I cannot remove the grade-based condition of worth but can choose not to evaluate a person as a person based on their participation or lack thereof. And certainly, those quiet ones who wish to do so are given ample room to make up the difference in participation points through effort applied to the class assignments.
Towards this end of facilitating different ways of learning, I frequently assess the classroom climate: What is liked about my way of doing things; what is disliked? Do people need more visuals, or fewer? Do we need to incorporate videos into our discussions? Do we need more group-based discussion, more activities? Sometimes I have encouraged students to do the provided weekly reading; sometimes we stray from this material. Each class is its own community with its own dynamics, both good and bad, and these are navigated as often as possible in a collaborative manner.
I have never removed a student from class. While the potentiality has sometimes hung in the air, this has thus far ultimately seemed an unwarranted reach of power given the situations in question. Even the most distracting of students who talk excessively, and typically off-topic, under the breath (and sometimes not) to their deskmates while others are sharing or I am lecturing; who have otherwise unrelated conversation or bring up the same topic things again and again with intent to disrupt; or who try to cleverly get out of work by asking me a question in a way that my answering would contradict the assignment expectations I have just laid out; stop when presented with the possibility they might be told to leave class with their attendance uncounted. Most of the time, the group norms keep us on track before we get to those sorts of incidents.
Part of my insistence thus far in not removing conversationally-disruptive individuals from class has been that I do not see it fruitful to the learners or myself to totally sterilize the environment; it is important that we learn to sit and be comfortably with other viewpoints, distractions, and the like. The class environment cannot be intrinsically safe and comfortable—indeed, if the unfolding of student silence from the beginning to end of the semester is any indication, it is not—only challenging, and it is on those of us in the room to be relationally safe so that the environment is safe. It is important that we communicate, that we listen and really hear the other person and work through difficulties. I facilitate debates with the premise that participants will respond with empathy, authenticity, positive regard, and respect. Even over some quite heated topics, such as the impact of social media influencers on wellbeing, those conversations have remained just that—and moreover they have remained respectful; the learners have never shouted, never devolved into vitriol. Class begins day 1 and we are all uncertain in the room; people do not share openly about their learnings, thoughts, or even their questions. We develop the space in which they feel safe and able to do so, and that starts with my being congruent, empathic, and responsive to questions and concerns; it starts when I hold consistent trust for the learners’ desire for knowledge and growth—their actualizing tendencies—it starts when I can see them as persons.
Removing the structure of typical lecturing by the professor leaves an initial vacuum, as learners come in expecting to be told not only what to know but how and when to know it. When that is not met they are taken aback as to how class should proceed. What is very interesting, and I think important, is that my way of facilitating learning, in an approximation of the tradition of Carl Rogers, does seem to work. There is general information those who come to class are expected to know when they leave just by virtue of being in a college program, but I want more than anything for them to learn the information that is of most interest to them in a way that best works for them. When I can promote the pursuit of individual interests and then follow these and listen attentively to what is being shared, and conversation can flow freely, then, it seems to me, is when real learning takes place.
It is not through the rote memorization of information I give the learner, but the personal application of what interests them and what I offer which I think may be of interest—related to the class subject matter and also to each person—as we develop rapport throughout the semester. They tend to seem most satisfied when the learning comes in some meaningful way from within themselves, rather than when I give them information—even though very often they express confusion or hesitation when first given the opportunity to guide discussion and the general flow of class. When I can be congruent, empathic, responsive to questions and concerns, trusting that they will find their own way in learning, and can see them as persons, it has been my observation that over time, the learners in my classes seem to open up, find a bit of their authentic self, treat others in the room with empathy and respect, and trust their own implicit and tacit learning, if not in the world-at-large then at least in the classroom we co-create. End-of-course evaluations have revealed some discontent as individual ways-of-learning clash with this way of doing things—even the widest accommodations cannot meet everyone’s need all of the time despite my best efforts—but generally even those somewhat disagreeable students express on some level that the class was a positive environment. Of course, all of these things of which I write are ideals—aspirations—which I do not always successfully meet. Learners go unheard; conditions of worth are sometimes placed. I am not always as responsive as I would like; or sometimes I am a bit more controlling, guiding conversation or course content outright in order to get through a difficult moment. That is human and the best that I can do responding to any moment.
It is important to mention that the same attentive listening guiding me through conversation is my best tool in navigating classroom difficulties. At the end of the day, my goal is to facilitate learning from a place of empathy. This involves consideration of many different levels of nuance and context as learners navigate not only my, but other courses and their wider lives. When trouble strikes, can I really hear the learner and meet them where they need to be met in the moment? Sometimes, indeed maybe even often, I am unsuccessful, but this is something for which I strive. Thus, while I do enforce deadlines and have expectations with respect to assignments and grades, and pursue academic dishonesty reports of plagiarism and other forms of cheating, I prefer to rule in most cases on the side of leniency and empathy. Ultimately, it has no bearing on me whether a learner who has just undergone a significant life event or who is otherwise struggling submits a paper two days or two weeks late. Life happens, and I try to accommodate flexibly as issues arise. The merits, circumstances, and ethics of the situation and my own values dictate my response.
I believe it is vital to critically reflect on my teaching style and the effects it may have on those who come into my classes. These are just a few of the many things I consider in the classroom; hopefully this short writeup has given some insight into my process.
If you would like to donate a small amount to support me in this endeavor, you can do so on a one-time or monthly basis at my Ko-Fi profile. Proceeds will benefit my research (allowing me to pay participants in an ethical manner!), writing (I won't have to teach quite so much and can spend that energy developing and sharing my thoughts!), and tuition (every little bit helps!).