Inspiration

I hated teaching. That’s what I would’ve told you after my first semester instructing university biology classes as a graduate student. Those classes were filled with pre-med students that seemed to care more about their grades and what exactly would be on the next test than actually assimilating the course content. They seemed so uninspired to me. I eventually found my peace in teaching the non-majors classes but it wasn’t until I taught a semester of English in Huma, a largely ignored city in the northeast corner of China, that I understood why that switch to non-majors had made a difference.

Huma was a small village by local standards with only 20,000 people. It was a town that had never before met, much less hosted, a native English speaker. It took me several days to realize that my English teacher colleagues were speaking to me in my native tongue. A handful of my 200 or so high school students had learned enough English from watching The Sound of Music reruns to be conversational, but I spent most of that semester feeling like a failure. It seemed no matter how creative or varied my lesson plans were, I simply couldn’t get anyone other than those already able to even try speaking English.

On my very last day at the school, I was summoned to a media conference. The first such event had been a surprise, but I was now used to my regular appearances on the regional news, often staged alongside the region’s top government officials. As I dutifully took my chair alongside the party leader, I was surprised to notice 20 or so of my students seated along the opposite wall. Some were my prized English speakers who were now quite fluent, but there were also several students who had never said a word in class. To my amazement, one by one, each of these students stood at a microphone in front of this intimidating assemblage of dignitaries, flood lights and cameramen to tell me, in perfect English, how I’d inspired them to try, to strive to be the best they could be and also to accept who they were just as they were, wonderful in their own right.

I see now that the difference between those major and non-major courses in my early days of teaching came down to a chicken leg – the spark in one of my non-major student’s eyes during a dissection when she suddenly understood that the muscles on that leg were in fact the meat that she ate. I could tangibly see in that moment that she’d learned something new. She had little interest in biology overall, but I met her in that place and enabled her to look at things in a new light.

Whether I’m instructing in a small room, a vast hall, or outdoors for a photography workshop or guided nature walk, my goal is to inspire. As an environmental educator at a seaside nature center in Key Biscayne, I relished the students who were reticent to join me in the ocean with their nets. Coaxing them in and watching their fear turn to delight as they discovered shrimp and puffer fishes hidden within their haul of grass was always a personal delight. Nothing beats experiential, hands-on learning; especially when dealing with life and nature, subjects that inspire on their own. If I can share the complex and nuanced marvels of the world and expand horizons through my presentations, workshops, and consulting, even just a little, then I’ve met my goal and hopefully yours.