PEDAGOGY
Good teaching, for me, comes down to communication — and communication is something you work at. It takes preparation, patience, and a willingness to adjust when something isn’t landing. I pay as much attention to what students don’t ask as to what they do, because that’s often where the real gaps in understanding are. If something isn’t quite clicking, I slow down, reframe it, or try a different way in.
Learning is a process too, and philosophy only really works if you’re part of it. I often describe my courses as a “participation gig” — not because I expect constant talking, but because philosophy isn’t something you can absorb passively. Some of the most enjoyable moments come from trying things out: campus-wide scavenger hunts built around philosophical ideas, or sitting outside after class to talk through a problem properly. Those kinds of sessions tend to stick.
I also try to keep things active in class. Philosophy can seem abstract, but it doesn’t have to be static. When teaching Plato’s Euthyphro, for example, I split the dialogue into three acts and ask for volunteers to perform it. There’s usually a quiet competition over who gets to be Socrates, and at one point students even turned up in improvised togas — which tells you something about how seriously (and not seriously) they were taking it.
Because students come from different backgrounds, I try to bring their interests into the classroom where it makes sense. Topics like virtual companions or Japanese Otaku culture often resonate strongly with students who have direct experience of them, and those contributions can completely change how a discussion develops. Philosophy works best when it connects to something real.
Assessment is a tricky thing to get right, and I’ve tried a range of approaches over time. What I’ve found works best is a mix of smaller, lower-stakes tasks rather than a few high-pressure ones. Weekly reading or viewing questions, for example, help keep things manageable while also giving me a good sense of how things are going. They’re short, focused, and give you a way to engage with the material without it taking over your week.
Not everyone learns in the same way, so I try to offer different ways of participating and being assessed. Some students prefer presentations, others written work, others shorter reflections. The aim is to give you at least one format where you can do your best work, rather than forcing everything into a single mould.
I’ve also learned a great deal from working with students who need different kinds of support. In one recent course, working closely with a student on the autism spectrum — and with an excellent accommodations office — helped me rethink how I structure assessments and communication. Teaching is never static, and it shouldn’t be.
Finally, I operate an open-door policy. Philosophy can be frustrating at times, and it’s often easier to talk something through one-on-one than in front of a full class. Students regularly hold back questions because they’re worried they might sound off — but those are usually the most important ones. More than anything, I want the department to feel like a place you can spend time in, not just pass through. Philosophy works best when it feels like something you’re part of, not something being delivered at you.