Teacher-Administrator: A Love-Hate Saga

Part 2: “Love”

I will admit that it’s much easier for me to write about the downsides of being a teacher-administrator than the upsides.And I wouldn’t say that I love being a teacher-administrator any more than I would say that I hate being a teacher-administrator. There are gives and takes on both ends.

As much as I loathe to admit this in the midst of an incredibly satisfying sabbatical, there is deep joy in getting to know and work with students in spaces beyond the classroom. Theological field education—which exists in the form of internships or specialized chaplaincy training (called Clinical Pastoral Education or CPE)—serves as a kind of in-between educational space. There might be a class component where students meet regularly with an instructor, but in my role I mostly engage with students through the processes surrounding the classroom and the field site. 

In this more liminal space, I really get to know them—the good, the bad, and the ugly. Sure, some personalities might arise in the context of the classroom. Faculty generally know the students who collectively engender the most joy and the most challenge throughout their courses and the degree program or school as a whole. Some individuals, however, try to model particular behaviors in a course because they know they are being evaluated. The rest of us who work with students beyond that space often have a little bit more insight into how those individuals show up differently when they aren’t being evaluated formally, and we often have more chances to engage in personal conversations about students’ lives and experiences that may not be surfaced in the context of a graded course. 

Sometimes, I’d rather not know a few of the more personal details that I have learned over time. Other times, I’ve developed lasting relationships with individuals over our shared experiences or affinities (especially guinea pigs, who are the greatest pets a human could have). In some instances, I’ve held my tongue in faculty meetings where a majority of my colleagues want to award a particular individual with the title of Student of the Year because they displayed exemplary intellectual skill or agreeable behavior in classes, yet I have encountered them as completely different (i.e., less agreeable) persons in the field education process. In other settings, I’ve marveled at the deep wisdom and maturity with which students have navigated very difficult internship or CPE situations, yet my colleagues would consider them to be fairly average students intellectually or otherwise. 

I suppose we all know different aspects of students, in the same ways that they know different parts of us as educators. I would argue, however, that my knowing individuals both within (as a teacher) and beyond (as an administrator) the classroom space grants a level of joy that I wish more faculty could experience. Not joy in the sense of ephemeral happiness or elation but, rather, as a process of both knowing and being known. This itself cultivates a profound sense of fulfillment, constituting education as relationship rather than content or container. 

Relationship is certainly messier and more frustrating; it results in more meetings and more emails than I care to count. As an introvert who would rather spend every waking moment either reading or writing books, I am easily depleted by the continual interactions required for relationships. Some students treat our exchanges as merely transactional and, many days, so do I. They want me to fix their problems or change some policy, and the technicalism of it all can be wearing.

But if I hold on to the capacity for dynamic knowing, if I dare to open myself up to what might unfold in the in-betweenness of our vocational conversations and at the edges of the paperwork needing to be completed, I might actually love being a teacher-administrator. It’s not for the faint of heart and requires some true grit, as my teacher-administrator (especially field educator) colleagues know. Also, I can say with confidence that it is more work than that of my faculty colleagues with no administrative responsibilities. It is hybrid, holy work. And I feel honored to be doing it.