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Cruess Essay Cruess Award Winner Essay: Teaching and Learning – Learning and Teaching I t is with great pleasure that I accept the 2008 William V. Cruess Award for excellence in teaching food science and technology from the Institute of Food Technologists. It is quite an honor to receive this award, but this award is also a testament to the teaching skills and support of my colleagues in our department. Moreover it confirms the contribution of our students, without whom I would not have learned how to teach or have been taught how to learn. Most of us in academia are involved in teaching in some way – through structured courses, short courses, independent study, or a casual meeting in the hallway. Only a few of us, interestingly, are versed in educational philosophy, classroom organization and management, learning theory, methods of teaching and instructional design. But that has not stopped us from teaching or from learning. We teach as we have been taught, but we learn from everyone. With any modicum of luck, we have been taught by the best in our fields. As learners, we are quick to determine if the teacher captures our attention and makes the subject matter interesting, or we listen half heartedly to the monotone drone and slow tick of the clock. Understanding the difference between the two styles makes us better teachers and learners. As teachers, we start slowly and tentatively, drawing heavily from our undergraduate and graduate notes and on our mentor’s methods. Gradually we learn by experience what makes a course work, what subject matter is more interesting, what examples paint pictures that capture the clarity of the moment. We learn while we teach. But how did we begin the process? How many times have we seen a person accept a prestigious award and acknowledge their parents or an athletic coach as role models for their success? Almost always, the recipient of the award provides an anecdote about some teachable moment where they learned a life lesson. Parents and coaches have the ability to constantly reinforce—perhaps nag—until that behavior or lesson is learned. They are our first models and an introduction to learning. Favored teachers enjoy a similar role in ones’ development. But what about teaching and learning, learning and teaching? What makes these two powerful words inseparable? Perhaps it is because we cannot accomplish one without the other. When I look back on my many years of schooling and choose those teachers that were my favorites, I realize that they presented themselves at that teachable moment where I was ready to move to the next plateau. They were the impetus for the jump ahead. Part of this maturing process was because of their exemplary teaching; the other part from my learning. What stands out in my mind, though, was that they all were creative in their respective genres and made me see things that I didn’t know existed before they opened my eyes. Of course, all the information may have been readily apparent, but I could not see, could not comprehend, and could not use the information. It took the special person to teach for me to learn it. Through creativity and the gift of time, their work has changed my life. Fifth grade is a pivotal point for most students, a time somewhere between childhood and thirty-something. My teacher, Mrs. Berg, taught the usual fifth grade subjects with, I’m sure, outstanding success, but what I remember is that she provided after-school classes in French and art, both of which had enormous appeal to me at the ripe old age of 10 as I strove for some level of sophistication. As I tentatively worked my way through French verbs and vocabulary, I truly felt 4 Journal of Food Science Education—Vol. 8, 2009 C 2008 Institute of Food Technologists ®

Cruess Award Winner Essay: Teaching and Learning – Learning and Teaching

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Cruess Essay

Cruess Award Winner Essay: Teachingand Learning – Learning and Teaching

It is with great pleasure that I accept the 2008 William V. Cruess Award forexcellence in teaching food science and technology from the Institute of FoodTechnologists. It is quite an honor to receive this award, but this award is also

a testament to the teaching skills and support of my colleagues in ourdepartment. Moreover it confirms the contribution of our students, withoutwhom I would not have learned how to teach or have been taught how to learn.

Most of us in academia are involved in teaching in some way – throughstructured courses, short courses, independent study, or a casual meeting in thehallway. Only a few of us, interestingly, are versed in educational philosophy,classroom organization and management, learning theory, methods of teachingand instructional design. But that has not stopped us from teaching or fromlearning.

We teach as we have been taught, but we learn from everyone. With anymodicum of luck, we have been taught by the best in our fields. As learners, weare quick to determine if the teacher captures our attention and makes thesubject matter interesting, or we listen half heartedly to the monotone drone andslow tick of the clock. Understanding the difference between the two stylesmakes us better teachers and learners.

As teachers, we start slowly and tentatively, drawing heavily from ourundergraduate and graduate notes and on our mentor’s methods. Gradually welearn by experience what makes a course work, what subject matter is moreinteresting, what examples paint pictures that capture the clarity of the moment.We learn while we teach. But how did we begin the process?

How many times have we seen a person accept a prestigious award andacknowledge their parents or an athletic coach as role models for their success?Almost always, the recipient of the award provides an anecdote about someteachable moment where they learned a life lesson. Parents and coaches havethe ability to constantly reinforce—perhaps nag—until that behavior or lesson islearned. They are our first models and an introduction to learning. Favoredteachers enjoy a similar role in ones’ development.

But what about teaching and learning, learning and teaching? What makesthese two powerful words inseparable? Perhaps it is because we cannotaccomplish one without the other.

When I look back on my many years of schooling and choose those teachersthat were my favorites, I realize that they presented themselves at that teachablemoment where I was ready to move to the next plateau. They were the impetusfor the jump ahead. Part of this maturing process was because of their exemplaryteaching; the other part from my learning. What stands out in my mind, though,was that they all were creative in their respective genres and made me see thingsthat I didn’t know existed before they opened my eyes. Of course, all theinformation may have been readily apparent, but I could not see, could notcomprehend, and could not use the information. It took the special person toteach for me to learn it. Through creativity and the gift of time, their work haschanged my life.

Fifth grade is a pivotal point for most students, a time somewhere betweenchildhood and thirty-something. My teacher, Mrs. Berg, taught the usual fifthgrade subjects with, I’m sure, outstanding success, but what I remember is thatshe provided after-school classes in French and art, both of which had enormousappeal to me at the ripe old age of 10 as I strove for some level of sophistication.As I tentatively worked my way through French verbs and vocabulary, I truly felt

4 Journal of Food Science Education—Vol. 8, 2009 C© 2008 Institute of Food Technologists®

Page 2: Cruess Award Winner Essay: Teaching and Learning – Learning and Teaching

Cruess award winner essay . . .

ready to jet off to Paris with my now-realized meager linguisticskills. Our weekly singing of La Marseillaise still has me singingthe French anthem while watching the Olympics. When I finallydid go to Paris, not only did I speak “la langue francaise” but Idrank a toast of wonderful French wine to Mrs. Berg. Art, on theother hand, was more of a challenge, because my father was inadvertising, my mother was artistic and my sister majored in art.I, however, could not color within the lines, nor would I chooseto do anything artistically because of “pressure” to live up to myartistic roots. Mrs. Berg taught me ways to be creative that suitedmy talents and she sowed the seeds of appreciating things fromall angles. I learned that I could experiment, discover new waysto express myself and be creative in my own style.

High school was again a time of changes. Fortunately, SisterMary de Sales, my calculus and physics teacher (that’s right,calculus and physics) was right in the thick of my education andlearning. On one occasion, she cancelled our calculus classunless someone needed special help. It seems that I was theonly one to show up and we proceeded to review the difficultiesI was encountering in the course. She remembers the sessionvividly; I do not. What I do remember in the ensuing years wasthat she gave me the gift of her time to clarify questions andsomething we sometimes forget: that students do not all learn atthe same rate. On the other hand, she was famous for hercreativity and humor, as typified by her usual pranks in physicsclass. As we sought to grasp the concept of simple machines, thelever, wheel & axle, inclined plane, wedge, pulley and screw,she managed to use most of these devices in “educating” us bychanging a tire on a VW bus. To this day, I stand ready to do so,should AAA fail to arrive. Upon trying to help us visualize wavemotion, she stood on the counter of the lab bench with a slinkystrung across the room, showing us how waves behave. Thelesson on electricity had us bringing to class a repairableelectric object. I, however, brought my mother’s iron in perfectlygood working condition. After dismantling the inner contents ofthe iron, then replacing all the parts in the correct position(except for the few extra parts by the side), we were to plug inthe fully repaired item. Unsure of my powers of reassembly, Ideferred the ultimate test of my experiment to Sister, who was toplug in the iron to determine its working condition. I don’t thinkI’ve ever seen anyone who has been electrically shocked andthrown across the room, but Sister did recover. I learned to trynew things and not be shocked by what I might find out.

College was no less a time for learning for this biology major.However, when it came time to choose the deadly generaleducation class in the arts, the choice of “Art through the Ages”or “Music through the Ages” left me somewhat less enthused.Enter, Sister Sheila. (In case you haven’t picked up on things, Iwent to parochial schools from first grade through College).Sister Sheila was a relatively young nun without all theentrapments of habits and headdresses. For my cohort she wasdefinitely “cool” as she taught film appreciation. As we viewedour way through the works of Fellini, Truffaut, Kurosawa, andWelles, I began to see films from my previously superficial wayto a new understanding of angles, lighting and the power ofwords said or left unsaid. We never did see the third reel (that’sright, reel) of Citizen Kane but we were nonetheless absorbedby our newfound ability to critique this epitome of all filmdom.And who would have thought that a nun would require us to seeand critique the X-rated Midnight Cowboy as a final exam!

Graduate school in microbiology brought me to thelaboratory of Tom Cook. Tom indulged my then passion in

marine biology by developing a project on determining themicrobial profile of bacteria associated with jellyfish inChesapeake Bay. At times, the sudden disappearance of thejellyfish in that large estuary, a bane of swimming pleasure,suggested a die off due to some fatal pathogenic disease.As his teaching assistant for Applied Microbiology, I becameeducated in his ways of being creative and enthusiastic,and the response of the students to this mode of teaching. Heexuded a genuine joy when he was in the front of theclassroom, which led students to become far more engaged thanwas ordinarily seen. His suggestion to take food microbiologyled me to food science where I eventually attained my Ph. D.My doctoral advisor in food microbiology, Dennis Westhoff,taught with enthusiasm and innovation and most importantly,made food microbiology relevant to everyday life. By serving ashis teaching assistant for food microbiology class, I becameenamored with the field and all of its applications. His labmanual still serves as the basis for the labs I teach today and histeaching style serves as the basis for my style. While revising thetextbook, Basic Food Microbiology, Dennis taught me how toappreciate the clarity of writing and the attention to detail.These elements are part of my writing-intensive foodmicrobiology course today.

What is the outcome of teaching? Is it that a student learns aplethora of facts, that can somehow be searched for in the webof one’s mind or is it more important to regurgitate thatinformation and impress those watching Jeopardy? Rather, Iwould suggest that the epitome of learning is the ability to marrysimple and complex ideas such that the total is more than thesum of the parts. Even more intriguing is whether that sameknowledge can be combined in new and different ways to openup new vistas. That’s what Nobel prizes are for.

Perhaps, the most prized comment on one of my teachingevaluations was listed in the “What did you like least in thiscourse?” category. The student wrote “Dr. Doores expects toomuch from an undergraduate student.” Does the life of a teacherget any better than that?

When asked to write this essay, I was unsure of the theme, butcame across this quote taken from a journal kept by my greatgrandfather, Bernard R. Grogan, who was teaching school inSheboygan, Wisconsin, in 1876. I think it is quite apropos andtimely.

“Several years ago, in one of my classes in NaturalPhilosophy, there were some dull, careless boys; they took littleinterest in study but were enthusiastic in play. One Saturday, Iwent fishing with them. We had what the boys call ‘a goodtime.’ The next Monday, I turned the paddles and fishing rodsinto levers. The distance gained by a running over a standingjump; the agility with which boys tumble over the tail board of awagon; the ability displayed by a small boy in “dodging” alarger one to undo inertia. Thereafter, I brought the sports of theplayground into the class-room and the result was – those sameboys before the end of the term made the best practical scholarsin the class.”

Now, if I can just get the third reel of Citizen Kane, I canfigure out what rosebud means.

Stephanie DooresAssociate Professor of Food Science

Pennsylvania State Univ.

Available on-line through ift.org Vol. 8, 2009—Journal of Food Science Education 5