Teachers, Academia and the Thorny Issues of Public Speaking

You can't help but wonder how it is even possible that, despite unfettered access to the world's infinite learning resources, so many of us still find it so stressful and challenging to speak in public, even before very small audiences or people we know well. The answer that comes to mind at the most intuitive of levels, perhaps, is this: Because, for decades, the education systems of the countries we live in have consistently failed to recognize the importance and lifelong impact of public speaking skills. In some countries/cultures more than others, of course. There are specific reasons why this is the case, but if one were to narrow the entire cause-and-effect spectrum down to only two key variables, much of the problem would likely be solved.

But why should we even care, in the first place?

Because #publicspeaking #skills are not "stage exclusive"! Far from it, in fact. Even if you will never have an opportunity to address a wider audience in a formal setting (large or small) it still makes a lot of sense to at least try and understand what you are missing out on. More importantly, perhaps, what you could be gaining from a lot more curiosity around this topic coupled with a little bit of effort to improve your skill set, to say the least.

First, let's take a look at only a few, random arguments in favour:

1. Public speaking skills are primarily about #content #quality (as opposed to prioritizing 'form' or 'packaging', which - for a majority of contexts and settings - should only come second, at best)
2. Public speaking is primarily about better understanding your #audience (in a very broad sense of the word), anticipating its needs (including those that have not been articulated in any way) and adjusting your #goals and #message accordingly.
3. Public speaking is about intellectual #discipline and #respect, which covers a broad spectrum of related areas, such as #communication #riskmanagement, smart #research and #creative #preparation skills.

Needless to say, perhaps, all of the above skills are highly relevant to a wide variety of everyday-life scenarios: job interviews, multiple layers of professional relations throughout your professional career (from recruitment to team management and leadership roles), friendships and casual acquaintances, conflict avoidance and resolution, prediction and planning skills, not to mention multiple creative fields and communication risk management in general. In essence, public speaking skills can therefore be informally defined as your overall willingness and ability to continuously improve your (self)observation skills and progressively draw conclusions, hopefully resulting in more imaginative, disciplined and context-optimised communication.

Back to the original question

So what are the reasons why so many of our education systems fail so egregiously to recognize its importance? The most important reason, perhaps, is that, as a professional group, teachers and lecturers are themselves victims of neglect in that department. In other words, for far too many of them, there's far too much room for improvement when it comes to public speaking skills, as in (a) content discipline, (b) imaginative approach to the teaching process, (c) storytelling skills, to mention only a few. As a consequence, even in the age of omnipresent public speaking vlogs, documentaries, textbooks, e-books and tutorials (thousands of online lectures from great universities and polished TEDx presentations) it still comes all too naturally to too many teachers and lecturers to bore their students to death, on a regular basis, in next to no time. They would be well advised to remember one of the most popular mantras of public speaking: Expectations shape reality!

But is it really true?

Ask yourself this: How many teachers and lecturers have you come across in your entire formal education experience, with a talent (and/or passion) for arousing a genuine interest in the discipline they were teaching? How many times did you feel that your teacher's attitude (reflected in the daily commitment and the teaching process planning itself) inspired genuine respect/admiration, if only for its profound, heartfelt authenticity? You really don't have to watch the likes of Dead Poets Society, Goodwill Hunting or Mona Lisa Smile to understand that it's rare. This is why being a teacher is perhaps best defined as a vocation, not a job, least of all a low-salary chore.

So if you're one of those teachers who haven't felt a trace of passion for their job in the past few months, years (or decades!), you should seriously consider either seeking professional self-improvement advice/guidance or giving up...as in finding yourself another job, preferably ASAP! In today's world, there are infinite, often better-paid options available, with much less responsibility attached and harm (however involuntary it may be) done to society at large, especially in the long term perspective. Yes, feel free to consider it a hyperbole.

So why aren't they resigning?

Well, much of it is about the good old comfort zone and risk aversion. Something all of us know all too well. Both factors increase in importance with age and seniority, of course. The fact that teachers are not exactly the most entrepreneurial of the Homo Sapiens species (nothing wrong about that, by the way!) is one of the reasons why the world of academia and high-powered corporate business are so happy to exchange cliches and stereotypes about one another.

Number two (if not no. 1) is ego. Whether at a prestigious university or a countryside school, a formal teaching role puts you in a position of #power and #control, with a sense of social #status and #respect attached, historically, at least.

Don't get me wrong, I have always thought that becoming a (great!) teacher/lecturer is one of the best and most impactful careers you could ever hope for, right next to doctors and scientists. Historically, in a country like Poland, one would also include priests on the list. Not any more.

Number three is routine and what I would describe as professional hopelessness. Consider it radical, if you will, but I also believe that it's one of those few jobs where mature societies (and education systems!) should be careful not to admit (let alone put up with for years and decades!) teaching mediocrity, nauseating routine and/or lack of any passion for the subject. Don't forget that #passion is just as infectious as #pessimism #frustration and #malaise.

Inspire or infect?

When you look into the long-term consequences of such "student-projected frustration" and its capacity to spread exponentially over the years (potentially nipping a young heart's passion, motivation and curiosity in the bud), it's difficult to underestimate the negative impact of teaching incompetence, let alone opportunities lost and talents undiscovered. Worse still, doing so, slowly and "methodically" at that, should be considered "ethically criminal", if you think about it for a while.

Sadly, for too many teachers out there, even if it's been years since they last woke up feeling they couldn't wait to go back to class, it's quite likely the decision to quit or even do something meaningful about it is nowhere near on the horizon.

Last but not least, other than course evaluation surveys every half-year term or so, schools and universities could (and should!) do a lot more to systemically raise teachers' public-speaking skills and qualifications. This brings me to the two recommendations referred to in the lead section of this article:

1. Make public-speaking, communication and storytelling skills part of your education system, across the spectrum, and at all levels of education, from kindergartens to universities.
2. Develop #auditing #tools for #schools and #universities incorporating all of the above factors , if only to make sure teachers get professional, in-depth feedback on the quality of their work, followed by making specific #selfimprovement tools and #recommendations readily available

The pandemic should have helped, but didn't?

You would think that after almost two years of online teaching (and having your classes recorded) some teachers and lecturers would have reflected on the quality of their own work and asked themselves at least some improvement-oriented questions, especially after watching and re-watching their intellectual and creative output and putting it through a constructive-criticism filter or two. Questions like:

• Was this interesting to listen to? If not (enough), what can I do to improve it?
• Audience enthusiasm/commitment: Any signs of it?
• Can my choice of teaching content/materials be described as disciplined, well-structured and respectful of the most valuable "gifts" bestowed on me by my student audience, i.e. their time, their readiness to learn, their curiosity and commitment?
• Am I really doing my best (or anything close to it) at least 50% of the time?

If the answer to as many as one of these questions is 'No!', chances are you may have forgotten your 'Why', never asked it properly or failed to repeat these questions often enough: Why am I doing it in the first place? What is the most important reason why I choose to teach (rather than do something else)?

Last but not least, you might think much of the above is head-in-the-clouds idealism. Over the years, you may have gone for one of the countless other ways to sooth your lazy little conscience, offering excuse after excuse to your frustration-ridden inner voice. But if you are a teacher and truly wish to continue on your knowledge-sharing journey, just remember that your audience is truly extraordinary. Not because it's in the most formative and intellectually malleable stage of personal development, but because for every single person sitting in front of you, to be able to listen to your words, it took years of upbringing, education, preparation, (parents') money, hopes and dreams...to be among the privileged few students in your class, at your (prestigious) university.

Ironically, the less prestigious your school or university, the more worthwhile it is for you to remember why, long time ago, you chose to be a teacher.