The past summer session was a record breaker for students' personal crises. Frequently students come to me to talk about the problems in their lives. It usually begins in the context of explaining why they cannot complete their work on time or why they did so poorly on their last assignment, but the office quickly turns into a confessional (to use an analogy appropriate to the O'Connor class). I used to think that this was a freshman thing and that students would not feel compelled to reveal everything about themselves to me once they became more comfortable with college life and being away from their parents. Not so much.
I am not complaining about this--it usually doesn't bother me (in fact, it only bothers me when I get unecessarily long emails about strings of insignificant events that basically amount to disorganization and procrastination on the part of the student and waste five minutes of my life). I take my responsibility to my students very seriously, but it is hard to know what my responsibility is. What is the appropriate response? What is too close? How involved should I be when they come to me for. . .well, what is it that they are coming to me for? Reassurance? Help? A sympathy grade? Or just an ear?
I know that some people will advocate a completely professional relationship, which to me means that there is no room for students' problems and there is certainly no place for revealing information about my personal life. But I do not feel comfortable with such boundaries. The way that I typically handle these issues is to never ask questions but always be willing to hear--something tells me that if they feel like it is important for them to tell me, it's important for me to let them tell me. And most of the time that's all that happens. They tell me their life stories, and I hear them, and then I tell them that they should do this, this, and this to complete their requirements for class. Sometimes I can relate to students' concerns because I have gone through something similar, and I am tempted to talk to them about my experiences, but the only personal experiences I ever talk about are common college-related issues like sleep deprivation and time management. That's the only kind of advice I feel comfortable giving, even though I often want very much to offer more. This semester I referred a student to the crisis intervention services on campus. I don't know if she called.
I feel a great deal for my students and have a tendency to carry their problems home with me. I will often bend over backwards to help them get through the semester despite their major or minor personal catastrophes--but I have also found that when I express to them how willing I am to work with them and help them, their efforts in class increase, as if my concern for them gives them a sense of personal responsibility to me. I know that I always wanted to perform well for teachers who I knew cared about me. Rarely have I felt like a student has taken advantage of me.
With this post, I am trying to hash things out for myself, but I also hope to get some response from other teachers on this topic. I would love it if some of my readers would weigh in in comments but even better if some might offer their own posts on the subject.
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4 comments:
I think your method is a good one. I generally take the same approach, although I occasionally suggest students go to the Counseling Center or some equivalent. It is hard to know how to traverse the divide b/w teacher and friend, especially when the nature of most of our classes calls for a lot of in depth discussion, which can often lead to me or my students revealing things. I also think by nature of the sorts of things we teach students often feel like they can share things with us, especially when what we're reading speaks to them on some level.
Well, I haven't experienced too much of that because I was only a mere T.A. (teaching discussion sections) or a graduate student instructor (though some students did call me professor) and my students hardly ever came to my office hours to begin with.
For those who did and shared their problems with me, I was always very supportive and accommodating, and most of them corresponded.
For the most part, my students don't share that much personal info with me. I have, however, had a few students who were regular visitors to my office hours--and their purpose was not necessarily to talk about their papers. On those occasions I did sit and chat with the student--usually about their stress over their chosen major, juggling a job and school, etc. Once I had a student come to me b/c she had missed several days of class, and she shared a very personal experience that she had been dealing with--one that I, too, had once had. It was a difficult subject for her to talk about, and I felt it appropriate to share with her my own story--even though it may have been more of a disclosure than a teacher should give. However, in that instance, I think I was able to really provide some support to that student, and as a result the student continued to visit my office hours to talk about other, more school-related issues.
Now, the last thing I want to be is a therapist (primarily b/c I'm not qualified!), so I don't typically engage in such exchanges if I can help it. In the case I just described, I don't think I was really offering that kind of help, though. I just let her know that hers was not an isolated experience. And she was already going to counseling.
Argh. Been there, done that. For some reason, once I stopped teaching lit and writing classes and moved into American Studies and other disciplines, the personal problems brigade stopped knocking on my door. I think it has to do with the nature of literature and writing--people feel ready to bare their souls after a dose of The Yellow Wallpaper. ;)
I did keep brochures from the campus counseling center handy, but then I had to explain to a number of first-year students that no, I didn't think they were crazy, just maybe needing some help refocusing or gaining perspective.
It's a hard balance to maintain, I think. I want to help my students become critical thinkers, and part of that means being able to reflect on their own lives. But at the same time, I'm not a counselor--nor do I wish to be one.
Thanks for a thoughtful post!
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