My approach to teaching has changed significantly over the past 14 years, but some parts have stayed the same. This page includes my recently-updated teaching philosophy that responds to the emergence of AI in the classroom, followed by excerpts from my previous teaching statement that still apply.

Instructors across all disciplines would be remiss not to revisit their teaching philosophies in the wake of artificial intelligence and its impact on higher education. Navigating the use of AI in my writing courses has deepened my understanding of how students learn, the challenges they face, and what they want out of the class. I generally restrict the use of AI on assignments, despite the increasing pressure on instructors to do the opposite. Justifying my reluctance to get with the times affords me the opportunity to explain certain foundations of my approach to teaching writing and reading.  

I often subject my composition students to the refrain writing is thinking to underscore the importance of exercising our cognitive muscles. Writing is messy, and there’s no way out but through. I present revision as the most vital stage of the writing process—where productive struggle facilitates the acquisition of practical knowledge. The work of correcting grammar, rearranging paragraphs, clarifying research, etcetera establishes a reciprocal exchange between stronger writing and stronger thinking. Ultimately, this exchange is vital for improving communication skills, the practical goal of a writing class. 

To stress the value of reaching that goal, I ask students to picture the company or organization they want to work for and to imagine that they have a job opening. It’s down to two candidates with equally impressive resumes. But the interviews reveal that one applicant’s cognitive dexterity—evident in their communication skills—is far more advanced than their competition. Students reach the obvious conclusion that ChatGPT might get them an interview, but it cannot generate the kind of adept thinking borne from college-level rigor. 

In short, explaining why artificial intelligence should generally be avoided in composition classes has prompted me to focus more on the process of completing assignments, which has strengthened my ability to turn obstacles into learning opportunities. Lemonade out of lemons, if you will.  

Observing students turning to AI not just for essay writing but for simpler tasks, like emailing their teachers, has been particularly disheartening. But my discussions with students about the authenticity of their work revealed that factors other than laziness influence them to bypass cognitive labor: they share a profound lack of confidence in their ability to produce original ideas. The normalization of LLMs in school means having the answer keys to entire curriculums in a separate tab. It’s little wonder that students eventually stop trying to figure things out, extinguishing the driving force of education itself. 

Enter me, the English instructor, whose job it is to provide guidance on effective writing, along with cultivating curiosity about literature and social problems. Eliciting genuine responses from students to something we have read was difficult enough before AI. Now, just as I have had to reinforce the centrality of the writing process in my composition courses, I have had to reconsider how I teach interpretive autonomy in my literature ones. 

Introducing this practice of engaging with text evidence to build authentic interpretations challenges students in several ways: they must forego the notion of an answer key when studying literature; they must take an active role in deciding what a text might mean; and, ideally, they will grow comfortable sharing their thoughts without the fear of being told they are wrong. (It is this fear that steers many students toward Claude and other LLMs.) To these ends, I frequently assign student-centered activities, such as discussion in small groups, where students can test ideas, question one another’s assumptions, and develop interpretations through low-stakes conversation with their peers. Rather than positioning myself as the arbiter of correct meanings, I circulate as a facilitator, helping students see literary interpretation as an evidence-based act of inquiry rather than a search for predetermined answers. 

Much like the writing process, this dialogic method of reaching conclusions holds the most real-world value for participants, in that it strengthens reading comprehension, promotes collaboration, and sharpens confident communication. Because today’s students have largely forgotten how to rely on themselves, validating original attempts to engage with class material is paramount. The availability of artificial intelligence in education means I now prioritize helping my students see themselves as bright individuals capable of making valuable contributions to our class. Interpretive autonomy sprouts from those first hesitant, awkward moments of small-group discussion, is nurtured by reassurance from a warm authority figure, and blooms when a student clears their throat and speaks with the knowledge that experiencing literature depends not on recycled scholarship but on unique voices.

I don’t use the word unique lightly. 

When students feed open-ended prompts to ChatGPT and submit its response as their own, they inadvertently expose the Achilles’ heel of consulting AI for subjective assignments. Whether it’s writing an essay or interpreting a text, each student carries different perspectives, experiences, and skill sets that influence their response. LLMs can only offer so many variations of the same general answer before an instructor detects the red flags. Therefore, I caution my students to avoid AI for practical reasons—they’ll get caught—and personal ones—upholding their integrity and all that. 

Today, I design course materials, plan lessons, and write assessments with a renewed focus on productive struggle and self-confidence. We as instructors are responsible for meeting the ubiquitous temptation of cognitive offloading by reminding students why they are here in the first place. In his poem “For a Student Who Used AI to Write a Paper,” Joseph Fasano puts it this way: “what are you trying/ to be free of?/ The living? The miraculous/ task of it?/ Love is for the ones who love the work.” In my experience, very few students have loved the work, and I am no longer green enough to believe I can inspire John-Keating-level commitment to my subject matter, but it doesn’t hurt to do the job with these things in mind. Perhaps loving the work means recognizing the real-world benefits of strong reading comprehension and effective writing skills, of which I want all of my students to believe they are capable.  05.24.2026

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With any institution, I anticipate and look forward to meeting the diverse students who enroll in my course. These students arrive with a variety of experience in writing and with a wide range of expectations for the class, but they share the common goals of improving composition skills and earning a career in their chosen profession. One of the reasons I went into English was convenience; I have always found writing easy and enjoyed helping my friends with theirs by offering a second set of eyes, fixing typos, and supplying constructive feedback. I learned to channel these skills into a degree that also allowed me to analyze and discuss literature. I fell in love with literature early in life, from my mother reading to me every day, exploring picture books on my own, and eventually reading Great Expectations in the fourth grade. Reading and sharing literature for a living sounded wonderful on its own, but adding the pedagogical component meant spreading the enjoyment of writing and reading to others. Writing about literature is empowering; it prompts us to articulate the unique experience of literary interpretation through our own words. Writing is nothing less than infusing agency into our ideas, broadening our very identities by developing autonomy and voice. The ability to aid others in honing this most valuable skill—critical to success in any workplace—is above all, a privilege.

Teachers should take into account the busy collegiate lifestyle, often accompanied by the demands of parenthood and/or full-time jobs, and work to create course policies and teaching methods which appeal to the students’ desires for control, choice, and creative expression. I believe in expending a fair effort to accommodate the needs of my students (by making changes in response to a mid-semester survey or extending a due date, for instance) while designing lessons around meaningful engagement with course material and intellectually challenging assignments that rely on critical thinking.

It is also a teacher’s duty to guide her students in effective learning practices by sharing knowledge and offering critique when necessary. I recognize that students look to me for important historical and contextual information about our course material and for direction during class activities and discussion, which my education has prepared me to provide.

I hope that by completing my English courses, students realize several things: the importance of clear and compelling writing; the benefits of higher education, the rewards of perseverance, and the personal growth that stems from reading literature and working to improve the expression of one’s ideas. The skills gained in my classes are applicable and vital to any career and will further student success in future courses. I enjoy getting to know my students over the semester and staying in touch with them afterwards for their professional needs, such as recommendation letters. Toni Morrison once stated that education frees us, and once we are free, we have the duty of freeing others. I always approach any course I teach and any students I meet with this manifesto in mind. As an English instructor, I provide the information, direction, and tools that my students need, but at the end of the semester, it’s the student who has done the work and earned the grade—hopefully one they can be proud of. From this feeling of pride, empowerment is born. The best thing to discover through education is personal empowerment, the capacity to free ourselves and free others.