I was recently asked to help a medical school faculty member with dossier preparation for a prestigious teaching award at the University of Hawaii at Manoa. I had previously helped with her promotion to Associate Professor and so I was happy to assist. After some thought, I contemplated a strategy to provide the most compelling argument for her to compete effectually for the award. Along the way, this commitment allowed me to broaden my appreciation for what constitutes an exceptional teacher.
Good teachers come in many colors, styles and a variety of disciplines. I always thought myself a good teacher, especially in my prime. Moreover, many of my mentors and colleagues were respected and effective teachers that I admired throughout my career. Accordingly, I believed that over my circa 50-year academic career in the Department of Pediatrics, Dean’s office, Office of the Vice Chancellor for Research and Graduate Education followed by a return to the Department of Pediatrics as a Professor Emeritus, I possessed a decent grasp of the attributes of a “good” teacher. To be sure, the diversity of positions that I occupied throughout my career allowed me to see/interact with an assortment of different teachers inside and outside my discipline. Surprisingly, as I considered the qualities of the faculty member I agreed to assist, I realized that my prior ingrained understanding of the attributes of an exceptional teacher was insular and incomplete.
What I realized was that evaluation of clinical faculty’s teaching ability is particularly challenging. Formal classroom instruction typically consumes a minority of teaching commitment. Instead, teaching occurs at scheduled and unscheduled times and in diverse settings; on the wards, at the bedside, in the cafeteria, the parking lot, and even in social settings that clinical faculty members interact with learners at all levels. Teaching in this context is an extension of the daily communication between teacher and student. Teaching moments emerge fluidly from discussions of patient care, queries from students and families, and or programmed into the day’s activities. Sadly, it has been my experience that too many faculty members lack the patience to provide a safe, interactive, and meaningful teaching experience. Too many answer questions they ask without giving enough time for their learners to chime in. This tendency is amplified when teaching is held in any intensive care unit where patience is at its limit, when making timely decisions is critical to providing the best and most responsive care for patients. Faculty members tend to overlook the educational needs of students in this setting.
Considering these significant challenges, the exceptional faculty member I agreed to assist possesses most if not all of the qualities of my expanded view. While most clinical faculty members gravitate to one or two groups of learners to focus their teaching on, she sets no limit to the audience in her midst. She not only teaches medical students, pediatric residents, neonatal fellows, but also undergraduate students, community members, colleagues from Pediatrics and other disciplines, nurses, the media, etc. When it does not conflict with her on-call duties, she graciously accepts invitations to speak or participate in educational activities without hesitation.
Moreover, during her carefully prepared, polished delivery of lectures, seminars, informal discussions, and other interactions with learners, she exudes a gentile humanity and an ever-present, inviting warm smile, while attentively educating her learners as well as patiently listening and responding to their queries and concerns. Her motivation stems from her sincere long-term goal of paying back for the educational opportunities that she had as a Native Hawaiian. She genuinely cares for the learners in her sphere; she is not just spewing out knowledge as an academic obligation of her university.
Due to her character, performance and productivity, she is increasingly recognized and inspired by learners and colleagues as an outstanding role model for students of medicine and academics. She does not whine or complain about her wide-ranging work load. She finds time to get her work done, prepare for lectures, finalize her research manuscripts, work on assignments in her Dean’s Office role, and reading the latest journals after her three children go to bed at night. Most of her interactions occur through email communications sent around midnight or later. She is truly an unselfish workhorse who is naturally driven to fulfill her passion in all of her roles; at home, in the classroom, at the bedside, and in the community.
She frequently attends lectures, educational and social events with one or more of her children, maximizing the time she spends with them. Not surprisingly, people are drawn naturally to her both professionally and in her role as a mother, a wife, and as a local born and raised in Hawaii. She has a natural flair for fitting into any conversation or social setting.
What I realized when I was pondering how I would counsel this faculty member on how to frame this teaching award application, was the distinct difference between giving a brilliant lecture and being a brilliant teacher. I have witnessed many brilliant lectures throughout my career, many from well-known dignitaries and renowned academics without knowing the person behind the accolades. They may or may not be considered good teachers or inspiring role models. A good teacher is more than the sum of what or how well they teach. A good teacher cares for their learners. A good teacher is patient and sensitive to their learner’s concerns and challenges. A good teacher is a good person, a good role model, a balanced individual who is able to somehow manage the multifaceted challenges of life with dignity and a positive spirit. Burgeoning learners gravitate to and often mimic those who inspire them in life, to validate their own quest, to give them courage for their future endeavors and often to receive long-term career advice as they encounter crucial cross-roads in their life’s journey.
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