For the Fall 2016 Job Market I am re-posting the essential job application posts. We’ve looked at the Cover Letter and the CV; today we look at the Teaching Statement.
An expanded and updated version of this post can now be found in Chapter 25 of my book, The Professor Is In: The Essential Guide to Turning Your Ph.D. Into a Job. I am keeping a shortened version here, but for the complete discussion, including examples of common teaching statement errors, please do purchase the book, which compiles all my major job market posts along with 50% entirely new material.
Here at The Professor Is In we have reached the point in the Fall job market season in which many of our clients have finished work on their job letters and their c.v.s—and damn, do they look good!–and have moved on to their teaching statements.
And once again, I am struck by how many really brilliant and talented young scholars, including those who are otherwise terrific writers, fall flat on their faces in their teaching statements. It’s just painful. The teaching statement first drafts are, by and large, simply excruciating to read.
Apparently these things are just brutal to write.
I think there are several reasons, actually. A partial, speculative list would include these:
- The audience and its expectations are unclear
- The genre is rarely explained
- The genre allows for great variation, with few obvious parameters for length and tone
- The expected content at first blush seems overly “obvious” and rote (ie, “I am passionate about teaching”)
- Feelings about teaching are often intense and hard to articulate in academic prose.
The mistakes that teaching statement writers make seem to fall into fairly consistent patterns that derive from the confusions and mystifications listed above. In this post I am going to identify the major pitfalls of the worst teaching statements, and offer suggestions to guide you as you craft your own.
Error #1: It is too long
There are fewer hard and fast rules of teaching statements than there are for things like c.v.s and cover letters. So, there may be scholars and departments and search committees that have no problem with lengthy ones. But it is the official position of Dr. Karen that a teaching statement should be no longer than one page.
The reason is that a teaching statement is always a subsidiary document to a larger job application, which already includes a job letter, a c.v., references, and possibly a writing sample. It is simply not realistic or reasonable to expect the search committee to wade through a 3 page single-spaced teaching statement on top of all of that. While some dedicated individuals might, the vast majority will not. So, be your own best advocate, and make your statement as easy as possible to digest.
Believe me, everything you actually NEED to say in a teaching statement can be easily said in one page.
And while we’re on the subject, I don’t mean one page in 11pt font with 1/2” margins either. I mean one page with nice one inch wide margins on all sides, and a nice legible 12 pt font that is easy on middle-aged eyes.
It is one of the principles I try to inculcate in my TPII work, that white space on a page communicates expansiveness and confidence. Line upon line of miniscule font, crammed up to the edges of the paper, by contrast, communicates insecurity and desperation.
You know how when you get ready for a long backpacking trip, and they tell you to pack your backpack with everything you think you need, walk around the block with it, come back, and take half out? Well, when you write a professional job document, write everything you think need to say, then go back and take half out. Always write less.
Error #2: You tell a story instead of making statements supported by evidence.
This is probably the single most common pitfall of the teaching statement. For some reason candidates think that the genre requires the “story of my teaching life.” Ie, “I always like to use multi-media materials in the classroom. I first discovered the value of these when I taught ‘Introduction to Cultural Anthropology’ at the Eastern Tennessee State last spring. In that class I had the opportunity to use a wide range of videos and online materials. Students told me that they really loved these, and I came to feel that these are excellent methods for promoting in-class discussions. I plan to use them in future classes as well.”
I’ll bet some of you reading this post think that the above is totally great. It isn’t. It’s rambly and utterly enmeshed in the single greatest principle of bad writing, which is that it Tells, when it needs to Show.
We don’t want the Story of Teaching. We want principles of teaching, and evidence that you exemplify these principles in specific classroom goals and practices.
Remember that this piece of writing is sometimes called a Teaching Philosophy. Now I dislike that term, because I think ti encourages writers to be even more wooey and tell-y than otherwise, but it does point to one major goal: the statement has to articulate a wide general good that can be achieved through university pedagogy at its broadest level. Then the writer demonstrates, in concrete and specific terms, how this good is manifested in specific teaching strategies, with examples. Then evidence is provided to show it was done effectively. Then there is a conclusion. And the essay is finished.
To repeat: wide general good—>teaching strategies that manifest this good –>examples from specific classes —evidence that the strategies were effective –>conclusion
The most important point here is that you provide evidence that SHOWS (rather than tells) how you teach. This does not mean teaching evals or numerical outcomes per se, but rather that you describe a course, a specific teaching strategy that you used and why, what the outcomes were, and feedback from students that was illuminating.
Error #3: You express sentiments that are saccharine, obvious and indistinguishable from countless other applicants.
Error #4: You mis-read your audience
Error #5: You are excessively humble, especially if you are female
Error #6: You are excessively emotional, especially if you are female.
Language such as
“I am delighted when students tell me…”
“I would be thrilled to teach your course in xxx…”
“I am so excited to use new materials…”
“It would be a great pleasure to create new courses…”
“I can’t say enough about how much I enjoy…”
may seem friendly and engaged, but it is actually overly-emotional and highly feminized in ways that, again, are self-sabotaging on the tenure track job market.
Women in particular must beware of their tendency to over-invest in a “nice” persona in their teaching statements. Teaching at the tenure track level is not about being nice. It is about being a professional.
Realize that the “nicer” and “sweeter” you sound, the more you are characterizing yourself as the classic female perennial one-year replacement adjunct.
Those who are competitive in the tenure track market, by contrast, articulate a teaching persona that is completely consistent with their researcher persona: serious, intellectually hard-hitting, disciplinarily cutting edge, demanding, and with high standards and expectations.
Error #7: You fail to link your research and teaching into a single consistent whole.
Error #8: You don’t have a Conclusion
For the complete updated version of my Teaching Statement advice, see my book, The Professor Is In: The Essential Guide to Turning Your Ph.D. Into a Job.