By Claudia Buttera, Lab Coordinator, Department of Biology
In the nearly 29 years that I’ve been a lab coordinator in the biology department, more than 6,000 students have sat, worked and learned in my labs. I have learned everyone’s name, gotten to know most of them, and for many years afterward, can even remember where they sat. If our paths crossed on the street, I think I could probably recognize most of them, and I often do, stopping to chat for a bit.
As educators, we work hard to provide the best learning experience for our students, for the most part never knowing the ultimate impact we have had on their lives beyond this campus. Did we do a good job of teaching them? Did we leave a positive mark on their lives?
It is natural for us to wonder how we may have influenced our students through our teaching, but over the years I have come to appreciate and value the effect students have had on me, not only as an educator, but as a person, and so, I would like to pay tribute to a very small sampling of students who, over the years, have left a mark on my life and have contributed to my growth as an educator.
Students like Ian, in my lab over 25 years ago, who demonstrated such a genuine passion for learning that it was infectious – so much so that his girlfriend, who wasn’t even taking the course, came to the plant lab every week and learned along with him. His commitment to learning and doing not just a good job but a great job when working in the lab was one of the early influences that fueled my own drive to do not just a good job but a great job for students.
Students like Pradeep who took the course three times before passing, each time with dedication, commitment and enthusiasm. He made me rethink and change the way I assessed students, because he could prepare the most beautiful plant tissue sections, but almost always did terribly on written work, which always cheated him of the recognition of his talents in the lab.
And then there’s Jonathan, who had returned to university after several years away from school. For a lab report, he wanted help to better understand what he needed to do before heading home to work on it. His questions were what we had expected from students and we’d successfully tackled them with several students already, so the TAs and I explained things, just like we had before. But it didn’t work – he didn’t understand. So, we talked in order to figure out what he did understand, and we tried to explain things a different way. Nothing. By then, it was an hour past the end of the lab and the TAs had to go. So I stayed, and tried something else. And I kept on trying. I lost track of how many ways I tried to get him to understand, and about two hours past the end of the lab Jonathan started laughing, which honestly, I wasn’t sure how to take. So I asked him, “why are you laughing?” He said, “Claudia, no one has ever tried that hard!” Jonathan was the perfect reminder that not all learners are the same – they vary on so many dimensions of learning, and as educators we need to be mindful of those differences. “Trying that hard” was his way of punctuating the shortcomings and failure of a ‘one size fits all model’ approach to design, delivery and assessment in teaching.
Emma in my second-year lab several years ago, who was a very good student but not outwardly interactive, was super quiet, would turn beet red during in-lab discussions. I noticed however, that she would always quietly help her bench mates understand the material. So I asked her if she would want to be an undergrad TA for the course the following year. She was nervous but she came out of her shell and did an absolutely amazing job. She’s now one of the grad TAs for both of my courses and regularly contributes new ideas for experiments and things to try. The quiet, not outwardly interactive student in the classroom, when given an opportunity, can be a great leader.
Dylan, who was in my Wednesday afternoon lab a few years ago, sat on the far left side of the room and had the worst attitude – absolutely hated being there. There was no way of making him interested, no matter what we tried. I honestly got chest pains before every Wednesday lab, but the TAs and I never gave up on him. He did however give up on us and dropped the course two thirds into the term. Two years later he walked back into the lab and sat in the same spot he had before, and I took a long deep breath. Here we go again. But at the end of that first lab period he came to talk to me and apologized! He said he was really sorry he had acted so badly, that he had been too immature and didn’t know what he wanted back then, but that he really wanted to be here this time because he knew it was a great lab. I genuinely choked up a little. He reminded me to never to give up on a student.
Students like Corey, two years ago, who sat at the same spot as Dylan had, seemed totally uninterested in plant biology until the day I made a connection between plants and architecture and engineering. His head popped up and he jumped right into the conversation. It was like a switch got turned on. It was so interesting to watch because it worked every time! Sometimes making a connection with a different, and what may seem unrelated subject, can be the spark that ignites that flame in a student, a flame that kept burning bright for the rest of the term.
And there was Evan, who was in the lab last year. For bonus marks and as part of an end of term assignment, students were asked to connect the plant anatomy they had learned to anything they were interested in, in any way they wanted. He asked if he could do it through interpretive dance. Are you a dancer, I asked? He said no. I asked him if he was serious, and he said yes. OK! Do you want to do it just in front of the TAs and myself? He said no, that he was OK doing it during the lab in front of the class. So he did, and it was SO GOOD! No leading explanation, no words, just movements. He just did it and we all totally got it. Giving him the freedom to express himself in the way he chose was unconventional and a valuable learning experience, because it was fun, interactive, innovative and very effective. Great job Evan!
And finally, there was Albert, quite a few years ago. Academically, Albert was outstanding. As a student he was fully engaged and a pleasure to have in the lab but it wasn’t until he shared with me his medical school application letter that I came to appreciate how impressive a person he was. Albert, I came to know, had been orphaned, adopted and raised by a nurse, and by the age of 16 had experienced a fuller life than most of us will live in a lifetime. A life peppered with obstacles, challenges and events that gave him hands-on experiences in life that most of us only read about in novels, every one becoming a learning opportunity for him. Not only did he dedicate himself to his studies, he dedicated himself to working toward making a difference. An entire continent away from home and doing it all on his own, he worked to pay for his studies and living expenses while at the same time putting aside 10 per cent of his earnings to fund a bursary for future students requiring financial support to come to Carleton. Albert is perhaps the student who most vividly highlighted for me that the ‘student’ version of the people in our classrooms are but a mere drop of whom they are as people and most often, all we ever get to know about most of our students. He made me realize that getting to know and value the person beyond the student is what truly feeds and enriches my own attitude, approach and passion toward my job as an educator.
So, thank you to all the nearly 6,000 students so far and the ones yet to come, because for me, the learning never stops.