I had a quick meeting with a student who would be taking a class with me in the spring. They were curious about what to expect in the class. I provided insights in my usual way, and at the end of the conversation, the student gave me one of the more heartwarming compliments I ever received. All other awards and honors pale in comparison to what this student said. On the way out the door, the student quipped, “At least you got a personality.”
I wear comments like that as if they were badges of honor. Nothing makes me happier than hearing a student say that I teach a course in a way that gives them some level of enjoyment. I know that some of the material that I cover isn’t the most thrilling stuff out there, but I do try my darnedest to keep the stuff interesting. Whether it is my bad jokes or meme-filled slides, I want to make an impression that might last more than five seconds with the students.
On the flip side of this compliment is something I’ve always wondered about since I started teaching college courses. What is it that my fellow faculty do in their classrooms that I receive such high praise? Through some student anecdotes, I learned that several of my fellow faculty at Remus and Romulus have all the teaching ability of a three-toed sloth with a mouthful of barbiturates. They could bore the paint off a wall. I have asked how students manage to stay awake or function in classes like that, and the leading response is that they go straight to their phones.
Here is where the old man in me is coming out. I am a competitive person, and my biggest rival is the smart brick these kids carry around in their pockets. I like to think that my jokes are funnier than any TikTok dance or social media challenge. I have to be better than the AI-generated garbage that a lot of these kids are consuming. If not, I want someone to take me behind the woodshed and put me out of my misery.
I know there may be a few readers out there who will say that they are not in the business of entertaining people. I can understand those feelings. It isn’t easy. The best thing that I recommend is to act like a human being. Let your students know that you have thoughts, feelings, and goals. Otherwise, they will think you are some sort of educational automaton, powered on in the morning and stored in a closet at the close of business every night.
What do I know anyway? I got married for my personality, not my looks.

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