The Bug Geek

Insects. Doing Science. Other awesome, geeky stuff.

Does teaching matter?

Some of you may recall that I have been the teaching assistant for an introductory zoology lab for the past few years. When the powers that be restructured the lab in a major way last year (cut the number of lab sessions in half), I took the initiative to make some pretty significant changes in terms of the material being taught and how it was presented. I am tweaking things even more this term, based on feedback from last year’s students and on some new pedagogical approaches I’ve learned.

Since the current labs are definitely better but not best, and would really benefit from a thoughtful and thorough revision and updating, I got this idea that I would approach the chair of our department and offer my (paid) services to do the work, perhaps over the summer since my field component won’t be so heavy this year. Not knowing whether this would be red-tape-or-pecking-order-ly acceptable, I went and spoke to my advisor and told him my idea.

I mostly expected him to say: “It’s not really appropriate for a student to take on that kind of role,” and I would have accepted that. If that didn’t happen, the alternative I’d imagined was something like, “Cool. This would be a great course development/teaching experience. Approach the chair and check it out, but make sure you’re still getting your research/publications done in a timely way,” which I would have perceived as both awesome and perfectly reasonable.

But what I heard, and what surprised me, was this: “No one reading your CV is going to care about something like that. It’s not a good use of your time. Write and publish papers. That’s really all that matters.***”

I’m well aware of the importance of publications as the “currency” of academia, and their role as indicators of one’s research activities. I get it. I have a half-dozen manuscripts lined up (in my head, anyways), and want to get them all at least in press/under review before I have to start worrying about securing post-doc funding.

But.

I also thought that being an academic had something to do with teaching. Like, that maybe 1/3 of your time would be devoted to preparing, delivering, and developing instructive materials for students (the other 2/3 to research and administrative duties). And, in my happy little bubble of wonderfulness that is the way I imagine academia to be, I thought that GOOD teaching would be valued by the university that hired me.  My line of reasoning therefore was this: demonstrate solid teaching experience on your CV and this would be considered an important and good thing during the hiring process – all other things being equal (publications, awards, etc.), a strong teaching portfolio could move your CV to the top of the pile.

Apparently I was wrong: it doesn’t matter.

Am I THAT off base? Is it only in my dreams and imagination that there are universities/colleges that place equal (or at least close to equal) emphasis on strong research abilities AND strong teaching abilities? Surely such places exist?

Teaching is important to me; it is something I enjoy and take pride in being good at. I take seminars or workshops when they’re available; I read things; I observe good instructors/lecturers when I can find them and do my best to pick up some of their good habits; I ask questions of those I respect; I ask my students what they want and what works for them.  I honestly believed that these efforts would not just be personally rewarding (which they are), but that there would also be a professional payoff.

Someone, please tell me it matters.

______________________________

***This same person happens to be someone who is on my list of “really good teachers”

Forgotten Photo Friday: Hackberry Emperor Butterfly, Asterocampa celtis (Nymphalidae)

At the base of a large tree just outside the main cabin in which we had most of our BugShot2011 workshops, a slime flux was oozing. This flux was attracting all manner of six-legged beasties, including ants, yellowjacket wasps, clearwing moths and butterflies.

At times, the tree trunk seemed alive with the subtle, lazy flapping of resting butterfly wings. I fell a little bit in love with the Hackberry Emperor butterflies (on account of their cuteness, you see) and spent several hours stalking them to get just the right shot. This was the winner for me:

Hello, butterfly! (Hackberry Emperor Butterflies, Asterocampa celtis (Nymphalidae))

O hai, butterfly! (Hackberry Emperor Butterfly, Asterocampa celtis (Nymphalidae))

That face! Those eyes! The little forelegs all cutely tucked up against the body!

They look pretty nice from the side, too ;)

Hackberry Emperor Butterfly, Asterocampa celtis

Giving back by speaking out

O hai, terrifically neglected blog and blog-readers! I totally got sucked into that weird swirly vortex of work/rest/procrastination that sometimes happens over the winter break (you grad students know the one I mean), then suddenly found myself back in action at school (including teaching three days a week) and I am just now getting my spinning head above water again. Phew! Anyways, I’m back now.

The start of this new term was marked by my latest presentation. I didn’t give this talk at a conference, nor at a departmental seminar or even for a grad course. No, this talk was given to a special interest group called the Arctic Circle – a group of people with experience working in the Arctic and/or who are simply interested in what goes on in Canada’s northerly latitudes. I had been invited to speak about my research on beetles from Nunavut and the program of which I’m a part.

Now, consider this:

The audience members were not people in my field. The networking opportunities were therefore not ideal and it was unlikely that I would get the chance to schmooze with any potential future advisers or employers. I did not get paid.  This was not an academic event. There was no press coverage. There wasn’t even any free swag or food.

So why on earth would I spend hours carefully preparing slides and rehearsing? What was in it for me?

Well, that’s actually not really the point. The point is that one of our jobs as researchers and leaders in our chosen fields is to bring new and interesting information about our work to the general public.  I think we are often guilty of forgetting who it is that we’re doing research for: Mr. & Ms. J. Q. Public.

We grad students are doing lots of amazing research, but it often doesn’t make it past the pages of the latest issue of X Journal. It’s read, of course, by our academic peers, but what about everyone else? Don’t they also deserve to know about our research, and how it affects them personally? We find our  own work super-interesting (hopefully) – wouldn’t we want other people outside our field to be excited by it too? Let’s also not forget that most of us, in one way or another, are conducting publicly-funded research; the public deserves to hear what their tax dollars are doing.

I think we all have a duty to take these kinds of opportunities for outreach or education with the general public whenever possible – to share our work (and our enthusiasm for it) with others.

If you must have less altruistic motivations for doing this kind of thing, here you go:

  • sometimes you get paid (Or fed. Or offered beer. Or all three.)
  • you can practice your communication skills
    • public speaking (this talk was the first lecture-length presentation I’d ever delivered – and it went well!)
    • PowerPoint slide-making
    • NOT USING JARGON (completely impractical when speaking to a non-specialist audience, or to children!)
  • you might meet someone that could end up being a collaborator or supporter ($) of your work
  • it can be fun!

Personally, I really look forward to these kinds of opportunities. It’s refreshing to speak to more diverse audiences than the usual conference-goers. Working with kids can be especially rewarding – they have such enthusiasm and a wonderful sense of adventure, and they really provide the perfect audience for doing hands-on or outdoor workshops!  I have another general interest talk lined up at a garden club this spring to address the matter of a certain pesty red beetle – should be fun! I see this blog (and Facebook, Twitter etc.) as being a natural online extension of these activities.

Some kids in Nunavut, checking out my specimens, and ones they caught outside themselves - public outreach CAN be fun and games!

What do you all think?

Ho-ho-hoppers!

I wish everyone a happy, restful, and fun holiday season! I’m taking an internet break for a week or two, so I’ll see you all in the new year!

Forgotten Photo Friday – Oblong-winged Katydid

Sadly(?), it’s that time again.

It’s too darn cold out for most bugs, and I suspect that my recent run of finding critters IN the house has dried up for the most part, so real-time photos will be quite scarce until the spring (*cry*). While I do plan on practicing (and sharing) my studio-style photography during the winter months whenever I can find a subject, I think it’s time to bring back the Forgotten Photo Friday series for another year.

After returning from BugShot and dropping some coin on a new-to-me flash, I spent quite a few days playing outside, experimenting with this new light source. I managed to get a few decent snapshots of critters around my house.  Here’s the first:

Mine foot is tasty (omnomnom) - a green Katydid

Amblycorypha oblongifolia - Oblong-winged Katydid - nibbling her toesies.

It seemed like there were a LOT of katydids around this year, more than I can remember in past summers. They were frequent visitors to my back porch light, and the chorus of their combined songs at night was marvelously loud.

I somehow spotted this chunky-pretty and incredibly cryptic female on a low, still-green shrub alongside a trail in the woods in mid-September.  I plucked a red leaf off the ground and offered it to her, to offset her vibrant green colour bef0re snapping her portrait. She kindly obliged.

Apparently entirely unbothered by me, she spent most of her photoshoot grooming her toesies tarsi.

Fun fact: this species comes in two other color morphs – tan/orange and PINK. PINK!!!  I’m pretty sure I would lose my bananas if I came across a pink katydid.

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