Denise Bostdorff Teachers on Teaching 2024 Essay

Recipient of NCA’s 2024 Donald H. Ecroyd Award for Outstanding Teaching in Higher Education

(Editor’s Note: NCA asked Prof. Bostdorff if we could share her remarks from the 2024 NCA convention’s “Teachers on Teaching” session at which she received the Ecroyd Award. They are below. Future Spectra issues will include others’ talks.)

I grew up on a farm in northwest Ohio. When I was young, I gleaned the full benefits of being an oldest child because my mother read to me daily and took me to the public library at least weekly, while my dad tortured me with word puzzles like “tomorrow never comes.” My maternal grandfather, Max Spitler, was forced to drop out of school as a young boy to help support his family, a fact that undoubtedly left his former schoolteacher mother heartbroken. As a result of this unfortunate circumstance, my grandparents always encouraged education. The combination of all these familial factors led me to develop a deep love for language and learning. I also took this passion out on my younger brother and sisters by forcing them to play school, with me in the role of teacher, of course.

As a 4-H member, I had success with state public speaking competitions, but I really wasn’t introduced to the disciplinary study of speech and theatre until my time at Otsego High School where Bonnie Fink, a terrific teaching role model, showed me that the study and practice of these endeavors not only could be illuminating but also a great deal of fun. Moreover, she took me to a nearby college campus to see plays and to meet people so I would realize that college was not out of reach.

I entered Bowling Green State University (BGSU) as a first-generation college student with the intention of becoming a high school speech teacher. In a field experience at Sylvania High School, the supervising teacher advised me to get involved with the speech or debate team at BGSU since many schools expected teachers to advise such activities even if my own small rural high school had not offered them. It was on BGSU’s individual events or speech team that I was first introduced to a competitive category—rhetorical criticism—an endeavor that would shape my entire professional life. At the same time, two faculty members—first Ray Yeager and then Bill Benoit—engaged my intellect through classes in political rhetoric and rhetorical criticism, respectively; they also encouraged me to go to graduate school, which I did.

After earning a master’s degree at the University of Illinois, I completed my doctorate at Purdue University where both Charlie Stewart and my Ph.D. advisor, Steven Vibbert, served as exemplary role models for teaching and mentoring. Steve also helped me become a stronger writer. Like so many of us, I was very fortunate to have such mentors.

My college teaching trajectory was a little different than many, though. I started as an assistant professor at Purdue where I did teach undergraduates—in a large-lecture class, a small classroom, and in a summer research program for underrepresented students—but the emphasis was on graduate students so most of my attention went there. After getting promoted and tenured, though, I began—for many different reasons—to contemplate a new path. In the fall of 1994, I made the transition to teaching at a 4-year, undergraduate only liberal arts college in Ohio, The College of Wooster, where I teach all sorts of communication studies courses and meet one on one for an hour weekly with each senior advisee who is completing the college-wide requirement of Senior Independent Study, a yearlong original research project that culminates in a thesis and an oral defense. When I left an R1 institution, several colleagues warned me against doing so and said it would ruin my career. Sadly, a few in our profession, truth be told, treated me differently after I made that move. While I loved my graduate students—and still do— I have to say that I have not for a moment regretted coming to Wooster.

Passion for Teaching Undergraduates

One reason I am passionate about working with undergraduates is because it feels like my teaching has greater reach. Knowing I have helped people as wide ranging as a surgeon, a journalist, a political appointee, a development officer, a lawyer, an environmentalist, a businesswoman, and an educator develop their affection for rhetoric, their critical thinking and analysis skills, and their depth of thought is incredibly meaningful.

Most graduate students already have a love of learning to some degree or hopefully they wouldn’t be pursuing additional education, but many undergraduates have not yet acquired that passion. I get a huge kick out of seeing them do so and watching them gain confidence and pride in their academic progress, especially when they struggle because they come from a lousy school system, because they are first-generation, or because they face other issues related to immigration status, poverty, gender identity and orientation, disability, or the color of their skin. Being at an undergraduate-only institution, I have more time to focus on them than I did at an R1, and I am grateful for that fact. At the same time, I should add that Wooster is strongly supportive of research, too, so I have been fortunate to have the best of both worlds, and I realize not all undergraduate institutions are like that.

I also love undergraduate teaching because of the long-term relationships. My former students write, text, call, and visit me with great regularity, which always makes my day. I get to see someone evolve from shy, awkward first-year student to confident senior who has accomplished much, and I am honored to be part of their lives as they go through relationships, challenges at work, successes small and large, marriage and children, sometimes divorce, sometimes illness, periodically the death of a loved one, and always the experience of wondering aloud about the world around them. What a privilege.

A few principles of pedagogy

Over the years, my mentors, experiences, and students have led me to a few principles that guide my pedagogy. Perhaps others will find them helpful as well:

Have high standards but give students the tools to reach those standards. Over time, I’ve found that most students want to improve and want to meet the standards that instructors set. If you have low standards, students adjust their efforts accordingly. However, holding students to high standards without showing them how they can improve their work is harsh and can crush students’ spirits, causing them to give up.

This leads to a second, related principle: Meet students where they are. You can’t expect every student to know how college or office hours work or even how to find books in the library. Be sure to explain (ex. office hours) or to create class activities that are fun yet help all students learn (ex. a library scavenger hunt). In addition, use scaffolding by breaking big assignments down into smaller tasks that students must complete and hand in. Scaffolding makes a large project less scary and, before they know it, students will have written a 10-page paper. When providing written or oral feedback, be sure to frame your comments as how students “can improve for next time,” give specifics on how to do so, and point out at least one strength of their work or, if they really didn’t put their best foot forward or if they tried but it was wretched, the potential you see in their work. If students make small improvements, let them know you noticed. You’ll be amazed at what a little positive feedback can do. If students provide an interesting example in a paper or exam that you can use in class, refer to it and to them to underscore just how smart and insightful they really are. Teaching is about relationships. When you meet students where they are, students develop a sense of connection with you and want to learn. Relatedly, I would avoid nonstop lecture. Instead, aim for lots of interactive discussion, images, video clips, application exercises, and so on that keep students interested.

Lean into experiential learning and community engagement. Indeed, for me, experiential learning and community engagement are a big part of meeting students where they are. Yes, teachers of communication studies can and should apply ideas to historic and current examples in the classroom and have students engage in research projects and analyses, but time and again I have found that some of the deepest student learning has occurred through experiences beyond the classroom. During my time as a college teacher, students have:

• participated in the Communicating Common Ground Program—a collaboration among NCA, Campus Compact, the American Association for Higher Education, and the Southern Poverty Law Center—with students teaching communication skills, conflict resolution, and appreciation for diversity to preschoolers in Wooster.
• created messaging for voter registration, get-out-the-vote, and a local ballot initiative on farmland preservation.
• planned, promoted, and held special events: a Debate Watch, a fundraiser for childhood victims of testicular cancer, and a Living Wage Event on behalf of campus staff, for example.
• created a public display in the student center on the rhetoric of the modern Black civil rights movement and parallels with today based on a class trip to Alabama where we visited civil rights sites and met with civil rights veterans.
• helped organize conversations, meals, and volunteer work with campus and Wooster community residents through a program called Bridging Beall Avenue.

Experiential learning helps students understand principles of rhetoric and public address as they operate in lived contexts. Intertwined with community engagement, experiential learning nurtures in students a sense of working for the common good and an appreciation of just how challenging such endeavors can be.

Embrace serendipity to create opportunities for engaged learning. A few years ago, I was teaching a First-Year Seminar on the rhetoric of the Vietnam War when I discovered that it was the 50th anniversary of the death of Norman Morrison, a College of Wooster alum and Quaker who became the subject of great controversy when he self-immolated in front of the Pentagon to protest the war. As it turned out, his widow, Anne Morrison Welsh, was coming to campus for a long overdue commemoration of Norman. I asked those involved in arranging her visit if my class could participate, and the answer was an enthusiastic yes. Students were able to take part in both the commemoration and a Buddhist water ceremony that included the planting of a tree on campus in Norman’s memory. Moreover, students had a discussion with Anne and the family’s Quaker friends about Norman’s beliefs where they made connections between protests over Vietnam and protests over the Iraq War, which was going on at the time. Events like this one were profound for students and for me. If you see an opportunity for experiential learning, don’t hesitate. It could turn out to be one of the highlights of your teaching career.

Model community engagement for students. Beyond getting students involved in experiential learning projects, make sure you use your own knowledge and skills on behalf of the “beloved community.” In short, we need to practice what we preach and, importantly, talk about what we’re doing—the successes and the failures—with students. By doing so, we demonstrate how community engagement can be equal parts frustration and fulfillment. We also send the message that thoughtful perseverance in the face of obstacles is a virtue and that community engagement entails learning on our part as much as it does sharing our own knowledge and skills with others.

Finally, don’t give up on students. I can think of several students who never graduated from Wooster. The reasons varied—money issues, family issues, identity issues—but I’m still in touch with those students. All of them have persevered and made good lives for themselves. One graduated from another college, at long last, and I was so proud of them. Another popped into my office to see me when he happened to be driving through town on business more than a decade after he left. None of these students followed their planned trajectory but, in the end, they succeeded and have fulfilling lives. Don’t give up on the students who leave: send the encouraging word or card. It may seem like a small gesture, but it can make a big difference, especially if students are disappointed in themselves and/or aren’t getting that support elsewhere. And the same can be said for those students who falter and have a moment of poor academic judgment. Hold them accountable for their actions, but don’t give up on them. Make their transgression a learning opportunity and give those students the chance for redemption. Very rarely do they disappoint.

Our discipline has always mattered and perhaps it matters even more today, both to help students analyze and make sense of the rhetoric around us and, furthermore, to develop their interest in and knowledge for community collaboration in the face of anger, fear, misinformation, and powers who are willing to exploit others and the climate for their own gain. In this environment, our pedagogy with undergraduates is especially important to prepare them for what comes after they leave us. I remain, as always, grateful to the many mentors I have had throughout my life who taught and inspired me along my way.