Excellence in teaching

Dennis Haskell is a Professor in the Department of English. He received the Excellence in Teaching award for the Faculty of Arts in 1998. This award represents a joint effort by the Guild and the University to recognise and reward exemplary teaching.

In a highly intellectualised environment such as a university it is always tempting to over-praise the readily articulable, the methodical, the consciously declared and demonstrable. The model of knowledge in a university tends to be that of modern science. Consequently, the notion of a "discipline" is very attractive - it suggests definition, categorisation, a demonstrated boundary of study and a process of reasoning within it.

I teach in Arts, and in a subject, English, which is speculative rather than certain, in which factual knowledge and knowledge of techniques is of limited importance compared with subjects such as engineering, medicine and the sciences. (I am acutely aware of this because it has not always been true for me; I used to teach Accounting.) While many of my colleagues, and occasionally even I myself, talk of "the discipline of English", in many ways it is not a discipline at all. This conditions my philosophy of teaching. English is a 'discussion subject', in which for any question there may be many right answers. Good teaching in subjects such as English is teaching which leads students to seek their own answers. T.S. Eliot wrote in his essay "The Frontiers of Criticism": "There are many things, perhaps, to know about this poem, or that, many facts about which scholars can instruct me which will help me to avoid definite misunderstanding; but a valid interpretation, I believe, must be at the same time an interpretation of my own feelings when I read it". I try to encourage students not to be overly daunted by the opinions expressed on a literary work in the five rows of books in the library, and to argue for their own points of view. I also assure them that I am not looking for agreement with my beliefs but with intelligent, well-constructed arguments and marshalled evidence, together with a self-awareness about their own critical positions.

Honours or postgraduate supervision is a special case. I have always resisted laying down rules about supervision since the most important fact, I believe, is that every supervision is different. A supervisor must detect students' strengths and weaknesses, gauge when they need detailed assistance (they don't always ask) and when they need to be left alone. The students often require a great deal of help, some of it concerning mechanics, some of it just psychological support, especially at the beginning and as the thesis nears completion. I do think the supervisor has a vantage point close to the research, but outside it, which can be of enormous help to a student, and I encourage the students to think of me as a resource that they can use. I do think my own work as an active researcher helps in understanding their positions and in encouraging their confidence in me.

Accordingly, I believe that good teaching in English - and in a number of other subjects - is not so much a matter of structures, course design and the models of educationists; these things matter but they matter much less than tone, approachability and personality on the part of the teacher. These, of course, are difficult to quantify or evidence, except perhaps through personal references and student surveys. The students must have confidence in my knowledge and ability but I do want them to feel that they can try out ideas on me individually or in tutorials without the risk of being laughed at. I think that a crucial requirement for a teacher is the capacity to generate such an atmosphere. Also, enthusiasm is important beyond any quantifications. The qualities of a good teacher in English are the qualities of a good student: imagination, intelligence, a capacity to empathise, enthusiasm and a feeling for language. These are hard things to measure, organise or even to demonstrate. Thus, English is a gadfly of a discipline, but in its 'undisciplined' nature lies much of its value.