Erika Vause Mar 1, Deciphering the past can be a solitary pursuit, rewarding those who enjoy the long, lonely hours that poring over archival documents demands.
Many of us were attracted to this profession in part because of the freedom to work alone that it allows. Yet teaching, which is a critical part of being a historian, requires sustained interaction with students in large and small groups and one on one.
At many institutions, teaching is valued as much as research, and teaching loads can be steep. Even at research-oriented institutions, high-quality teaching is increasingly viewed as a vital factor in attracting and retaining majors and in demonstrating the importance of the humanities to the general public. Although some historians enjoy teaching the minute they step into a classroom, others are intimidated or easily exhausted by its performative aspect.
When I was a doctoral student at the University of Chicago, I never would have expected that I would find teaching the most immediately rewarding part of my job. Deeply attached to research, as many graduate students are, I dreaded the prospect of standing in front of a class and talking, which is how I first imagined teaching. Subject to inexplicable bouts of stage fright at inconvenient times, I visualized myself stuttering and withering under the scornful eyes of my undergraduates.
I prepared for hours prior to my first class, which I taught as a graduate instructor. It went well, yet I doubted that I could repeat the performance on a regular basis. After an hour in front of a class, I promptly returned home to recuperate with a six-hour nap.
Although the anticipated breakdown never occurred, it took my first year of a full-time job, teaching a load with three classes back-to-back, before I could say that I felt reasonably confident in front of a classroom.
It was at this time that I also realized how much I enjoyed teaching. The slight bout of nerves I still feel every time I start class for the day no longer intimidates me. Rather, it energizes me. Today, working at a small, teaching-oriented institution, the idea of not spending those hours in front of a class every day seems unimaginable. But how can one go from anxiety to excitement, from dread to joy? Many people, myself included, are both shy and introverted.
Introverts, meanwhile, shun small talk, preferring the intimacy of one-to- one conversations. It is the introverted teacher, therefore, who will be more likely to stop an individual student and ask her pertinent questions about her life: how she is getting on with her new pet, for example, or whether she is still struggling with long division. She tends to chat to her adult students during the break in the middle of their two-hour lessons.
In fact, she has become so friendly with them that the relationship is almost an obstacle to her language classes. Spencer has also adapted his classroom practice to eliminate introvert- unfriendly exercises. So, while he does include getting-to-know-you sessions as part of his routine at the beginning of the year, he has tweaked the usual model. They want the chance to think about their own internal life and express it to somebody.
What introverted teachers cannot control, however, is the level of social interaction required outside the classroom. Walk around and find out who likes bowling, that kind of stuff. I feel like professional development is geared towards extroverts. Find something, write something. Like many introverts, Edinger functions better with time to think, and pen and paper or keyboard to hand.
Faced with the kinds of confrontations that occasionally occur in school life, she would far rather default to written communication than face-to-face interaction. How would I be able to communicate while feeling nervous and, in my nervousness, interrupting myself?
I just need time to think things through. Wherever possible, she will deal with colleagues or parents in writing: via email or a letter home. There are some face-to-face meetings, however, that cannot be replaced by well-thought-out emails. I hate it. What I try to do is go home, rest a bit, walk my dog and then come back. I really, really hate it. Acting the extrovert with no break, Little says, is a speedy route to teacher burnout.
Or would introverted teachers feel too much like a fish out of water? Many successful teachers are self-described introverts, and one of the biggest misconceptions about this personality type is that they're shy.
Self-identified introverts admit teaching may pose challenges, but those challenges are seldom with the students. Other parts of the job can be much more nerve-racking. Large groups of coworkers especially. Communicating with coworkers, parents, and other adults can be stressful, but thanks to technology, teachers are now better able to manage this aspect of the job. Preferring time to think or craft written responses, many introverts find that communicating through digital platforms, including e-mail, helps them express their opinions and ideas, while avoiding the awkwardness they might feel during face-to-face interactions.
Unstructured times, such as time spent in hallways or the lunchroom, can be overstimulating and draining for introverts. But once inside their classroom, teachers are the CEO of the class.
Many introverts enjoy the freedom of planning their own day and structuring their classroom environment. Alex Rose, a high school special education teacher from Owatonna, MN, describes herself as an outgoing introvert. She embraces the freedom of teaching in a classroom. I get uncomfortable doing lecture-type teaching, but I love being so silly that it almost forces engagement.
Some introverts naturally feel more relaxed around students, while others find teaching to be like performing on stage, which allows them to temporarily express a more extroverted or silly side of themselves. Now, becoming a regular education teacher with a class of 30 students may not be the best fit for every introvert.
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