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Podcast Episode 048 – Lessons Learned about Teaching

Last updated on November 26, 2023

Podcast 048; Season 4, Episode 12; November 17, 2020

What I’ve Learned about Teaching

I’ve learned a lot about teaching over the last 30 years. Like everyone else, I’ve been learning about teaching since my first day as a student. Unfortunately, the lessons suggest that education is broken, and so is the profession of teaching. Or, as a colleague once told me, “We don’t need no stinking autistics.”

Transcript (lightly edited)

Welcome to The Autistic Me Podcast. I am Christopher Scott Wyatt, speaking as The Autistic Me.

As we approach Thanksgiving and Christmas, I was going to talk about being thankful for my wife, our daughters, and the life we have as a family. I’ll still blog about those topics on The Autistic Me website, but my mind is elsewhere.

Listeners and readers know that I have interviews lined up and ready to edit for the podcast. The episodes haven’t been finished because I’ve been busy with grading and preparing for the end of an abbreviated semester. My students are struggling, so I’m doing all I can to help them reach the end of my course and other classes successfully.

Though teaching is always a struggle, it feels good when students send me thank-you notes at the end of a term. I’ve had students give me some insightful gifts, indicating they learned more about me than I realized. Many former students have become friends.

If a career in teaching only required that you care about the subjects and the students, then I would have been a successful educator.

Followers of The Autistic Me know, however, that I haven’t been successful in my pursuit of the career I wanted.

I don’t fail in the classroom. I fail to navigate the workplace. That’s not just an issue with my teaching career. What I’ve learned about teaching is that it requires skills I lack outside the classroom. These are the skills all jobs require. Every job has been a challenge. Still, teaching is the job I thought I would have as a career. It’s the profession I kept chasing.

Friends and colleagues have rightfully wondered why I keep trying to find a full-time teaching post at a college or university.

I know my wife is correct, too, when she says teaching isn’t a viable path. I should be pursuing something else. My writing and technology skills complement each other at a time when businesses and organizations need to migrate services online. I could earn more money and experience less stress doing digital media consulting work.

Why have I clung to the goal of teaching? Since elementary school, I was certain that I should be teaching. Yet, I keep falling short of completing the requirements for a K12 clear credential or obtaining a tenure-track post at a university. Surely 30 years of disappointment should have cured me of any illusions about becoming a teacher.

I only recall having two disabled or neurodiverse instructors as a student. Surely there were others, with hidden disabilities, but these were not outspoken advocates or role models.

Having a physically disabled English instructor in high school mattered to me. He was an inspiration, someone who worked hard and was passionate about learning. And a professor with dyslexia reminded me that not everyone reads a book in a day or two. It was okay to read slowly and carefully, it didn’t mean you were slow or stupid or lazy.

What I have learned about teaching is that students respond to teachers like themselves.

The student struggling to read quickly enough to keep up with a full load of general education classes needs to know there are strategies that help. The student with a mobility issue needs to know faculty advocates exist, arguing for ramps and working elevators. Every student needs to know success is possible.

Seeing faculty facing challenges and advocating for change reassures students that someone cares about their futures. Someone wants them to earn their diplomas.

I don’t reduce the amount of work or my expectations for students dealing with physical disabilities or neurodiversity challenges. I make accommodations as natural and integral to my courses as possible. From including notes and transcripts to ensuring content meets usability standards, I offer the same materials and tools to every student.

Wanting to be that role model and advocate for students isn’t enough to ensure a career in teaching.

Campuses, from K12 through graduate schools, lack diversity. Tenure-track faculty earn reasonable incomes in most places, and are often married to other professionals. They are financially secure. The faculty lack ethnic diversity, too.

Adjunct faculty often aren’t financially secure. I also have observed more diversity among these contingent workers. Most disabled and neurodiverse faculty I know are adjunct instructors, not full-time professors. It seems statistically unlikely that it is coincidental that the outsiders remain outside the security of the tenure system.

I’ve learned that teaching is not a special career, insulated from the classism, racism, sexism, or ableism of our world. Schools reflect their communities, even as the faculty and administrators claim otherwise.

Someone told me, in all seriousness, look to computer science with its large Asian-Pacific community. Look to sociology with Black and Indigenous communities. As if having segregated academic disciplines is somehow a good thing. Instead, this segregation reinforces stereotypes and conveys a clear message to students about where they might “belong” and “fit in” within professions or fields of study.

There are autistic scholars in every field. But, we struggle to achieve tenure or even full-time permanent status. We aren’t embraced, except when it is convenient for a school or program to claim inclusiveness.

Did I waste the last three decades? What did I sacrifice by not giving up the dream of teaching full-time? Was this journey worth the costs, financially and emotionally?

When I ask myself was this worth it, the answer has to be not really. Some idealists would respond every student I mentored was important. I agree, every student does matter.

But, was it wise of me to spend thousands of dollars and many years obtaining degrees that resulted in no significant income? Those years matter as much as the money. Those were miserable years, affecting my health and relationships.

If I had focused on technology and never wavered from that, I would be earning a good income and I could still be a role model to others. If I had focused my energy more realistically, I might have a career. It’s impossible to know, of course, but technology seems to accept neurodiversity and difference more than teaching.

Teaching, as a career, needs to change. Teaching practices also need to change.

Now, I’m over 50 and career options are limited.

I’m going to take what I’ve learned about teaching and be a vocal advocate for the next generation. That seems to be the best use of my experiences. I can reflect on what doesn’t work and offer suggestions for change.

It’s not too late for me to create a path. I can do digital media consulting and I can spend time reflecting on the ways in which our educational institutions fail teachers and students… and parents… and communities.

Everyone knows our schools aren’t working well for a lot of communities. The coronavirus pandemic forced us to discuss some of those failings, even as I’m noticing little effort to change our educational systems.

Maybe I’m too convinced of my own abilities, but I know I am a good teacher. I also know I’m not good at the social networking or ludicrous administrative procedures required for success. In a culture that wants extroverts, people with outgoing and charming personalities, I’m not going to be a success.

It has been in education, as a teacher, that I’ve been told to smile more. It is in education that I’ve been told be more positive. It is a culture that wants sunny optimists, and that’s not my autistic nature. I don’t waste time praising what works: I want to fix what is broken.

I’ve learned teaching is broken. Now, I want to fix it.

I am Christopher Scott Wyatt, speaking as The Autistic Me. Thank you for listening.

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