At the University of Regina, I had a few opportunities to gain teaching experience: I worked in the Writing Semester for two semesters, was a TA for an undergrad English class which mainly involved one-on-one tutoring in composition, and eventually became a "floating TA" filling in for professors' and writing some lectures of my own. My best experience was leading my first creative writing class. My worst experience was walking into a class full of students and struggling to find a way to connect my prepared lecture notes with the rows of faces in front of me (spoiler: I failed).
These small failures and successes gave me some experience for my first semester at Iowa, where I am teaching my very first creative writing class in Poetry Writing. I designed the syllabus, assignments, and chose the textbooks, and do all the grading myself-- all of which are completely new to me! Before the semester started, I was terrified but trusted that somehow it would work out. I wasn't exactly clear on how this would occur, but I imagined that if the workshop trusted dozens of new MFA candidates each fall to teach various classes, then I could also trust in myself.
The first few weeks were a bit difficult, but I was excited to find I only had eight students in my class-- the makings of a very trusting, productive workshop environment (in theory). As the semester's gone on, I've gained some knowledge of which assignments and activities were successful, and which I'll likely drop from future courses. Ahead of time, I imagined I'd use the same textbooks and lesson plans when I teach again next semester, but I've already put in a different book order, and am re-working some of my assignments and in-class activities. I am learning that not everything I envisioned ahead of time actually works so well in the classroom, and am gaining valuable experience on how to talk about poetry--a beautiful and complicated thing that resists easy descriptions and "answers" (as if there were any!)
The thing I like best about teaching is the students. I am astounded by their maturity and knowledge every week, particularly in the prose-essays I've assigned which prompt them to talk about what poems inspire them, how their process works, and so on. I am going to include more of these journal activities next semester and maybe turn them into weekly in-class occurrences. I am grateful for a small classroom setting and feel like we've made some real strides in treating each student's poem with attention to their personal goals as well as an awareness of the tools they may be using, and the traditions they are engaging in. As we head to the end of the semester, the weekly assignments are drawing to a close (yes--I've made them write pantoums, sonnets, and either a villanelle or a sestina), and we'll begin to talk about their individual projects and how to continue on with their writing.
The most important thing I've learned about teaching, though, is compassion. Of course I want to hold my students to high standards and push them to be the best poets they can be. But I also realize that improving your craft takes time and patience, and is as much dependant on their outside reading and lives as it is on classroom time. As a result, I do not have an authoritative classroom presence, and I am flexible with deadlines. Perhaps this will not work as well in a larger classroom, and I am sure many experienced teachers would shake their heads at this. But I think when I am interacting with the same eight human beings each week, it is correct to follow my instincts and allow for a more relaxed, conversational environment. There is simply no reason for refusing to give extensions, or not forgiving human error just because I am the person standing at the front of the classroom (well sitting at the "front" of the circle).
Of course every class and group of students is different, and I'll see how my ideas about teaching may shift next semester. But so far I am learning as much about my own poetry as about teaching, and am grateful for the opportunity to sit around a table and talk about poetry for two hours every week!
These small failures and successes gave me some experience for my first semester at Iowa, where I am teaching my very first creative writing class in Poetry Writing. I designed the syllabus, assignments, and chose the textbooks, and do all the grading myself-- all of which are completely new to me! Before the semester started, I was terrified but trusted that somehow it would work out. I wasn't exactly clear on how this would occur, but I imagined that if the workshop trusted dozens of new MFA candidates each fall to teach various classes, then I could also trust in myself.
The first few weeks were a bit difficult, but I was excited to find I only had eight students in my class-- the makings of a very trusting, productive workshop environment (in theory). As the semester's gone on, I've gained some knowledge of which assignments and activities were successful, and which I'll likely drop from future courses. Ahead of time, I imagined I'd use the same textbooks and lesson plans when I teach again next semester, but I've already put in a different book order, and am re-working some of my assignments and in-class activities. I am learning that not everything I envisioned ahead of time actually works so well in the classroom, and am gaining valuable experience on how to talk about poetry--a beautiful and complicated thing that resists easy descriptions and "answers" (as if there were any!)
The thing I like best about teaching is the students. I am astounded by their maturity and knowledge every week, particularly in the prose-essays I've assigned which prompt them to talk about what poems inspire them, how their process works, and so on. I am going to include more of these journal activities next semester and maybe turn them into weekly in-class occurrences. I am grateful for a small classroom setting and feel like we've made some real strides in treating each student's poem with attention to their personal goals as well as an awareness of the tools they may be using, and the traditions they are engaging in. As we head to the end of the semester, the weekly assignments are drawing to a close (yes--I've made them write pantoums, sonnets, and either a villanelle or a sestina), and we'll begin to talk about their individual projects and how to continue on with their writing.
The most important thing I've learned about teaching, though, is compassion. Of course I want to hold my students to high standards and push them to be the best poets they can be. But I also realize that improving your craft takes time and patience, and is as much dependant on their outside reading and lives as it is on classroom time. As a result, I do not have an authoritative classroom presence, and I am flexible with deadlines. Perhaps this will not work as well in a larger classroom, and I am sure many experienced teachers would shake their heads at this. But I think when I am interacting with the same eight human beings each week, it is correct to follow my instincts and allow for a more relaxed, conversational environment. There is simply no reason for refusing to give extensions, or not forgiving human error just because I am the person standing at the front of the classroom (well sitting at the "front" of the circle).
Of course every class and group of students is different, and I'll see how my ideas about teaching may shift next semester. But so far I am learning as much about my own poetry as about teaching, and am grateful for the opportunity to sit around a table and talk about poetry for two hours every week!
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