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On rotation, I teach a graduate-level course entitled “Introduction to Early Christian Thought.” And every year — in the week of course evaluations — I have a conversation with my students that has become an important feature of their education: a conversation about how teaching evaluations are gendered.Once you’ve seen the pattern, you can’t unsee it. Men are routinely described as “brilliant,” “authoritative,” or “the best lecturer I’ve ever had.” Women, by contrast, are “kind,” “caring,” “approachable,” “compassionate,” or “pastoral.” Men “really know their stuff.” Women “really care about students.” Expertise attaches to men; emotional labour attaches to women.The same holds for grading. Students often expect women to be gentler, more flexible, more indulgent. A male lecturer who grades firmly is “rigorous” or “serious.” A woman who does the same may quickly become “harsh” or “unfair.”Having taught in three different academic institutions over the past decade, I have several examples which have made this very clear. I’ll mention just one here: a student received a B from me and a B from a male colleague. The student challenged my grade — not his. Same work, same outcome, different reaction. Nearly every woman in academia has a version of this story.I speak openly with my students, then, about gender bias before they write evaluations. Not because I want to avoid critique — I value thoughtful critique — but because evaluations stick. Many evaluations I receive are positive and thoughtful. Some are wonderfully memorable. My personal favourite is “Professor Thomas is a badass.” But, it is hard to forget that I “grade like a man.”ResearchRecent work in higher-education research confirms what many women have long observed:A large-scale experimental study found that female instructors receive significantly lower evaluations than male instructors for identical teaching, even when students never interact with the instructor in person (MacNell, Driscoll & Hunt, Innovative Higher Education, 2015).A 2025 analysis using natural-language processing on tens of thousands of comments showed that men are more frequently praised for “competence” and “authority,” while women receive comments about warmth and personality, regardless of teaching quality (Zamora & Ayllón, 2025).A comprehensive review argues that student evaluations often reflect biases — including gender — more than they reflect actual learning or teaching effectiveness (Uttl, White & Gonzalez, Studies in Educational Evaluation, 2017).These are not small effects; they are systemic patterns. What I Ask of My StudentsSo I ask students to pause before they complete an evaluation and consider a few questions:Am I using different language for a woman than I would for a man?Am I expecting more emotional labour — more nurturing, more availability — from this instructor?Am I reacting to discomfort about standards or grades by labelling them “unfair”?Am I evaluating teaching, or evaluating whether this lecturer fits my image of what authority looks like?Honest evaluations are essential. Students should say what worked, what didn’t, what could be clearer or more engaging. But fairness requires noticing our assumptions. It asks us to evaluate teaching rather than gender stereotypes.If we care about justice and equity in higher education, one simple starting point is here: noticing the words we use, the labels we reach for, and the people we instinctively challenge first. Notes & BibliographyMacNell, L., Driscoll, A., & Hunt, A. N. (2015). “What’s in a Name: Exposing Gender Bias in Student Ratings of Teaching.” Innovative Higher Education, 40, 291–303.Uttl, B., White, C. A., & Gonzalez, D. (2017). “Meta-analysis of faculty gender and teaching evaluations.” Studies in Educational Evaluation, 54, 22–42.Zamora, C., & Ayllón, S. (2025). “Gender Bias in Qualitative Course Evaluations: Evidence from NLP Methods.” (Open-access working paper).

Last semester, my dean very briefly mentioned that a student compared their classroom experience to shopping on Amazon, evaluating courses based on convenience, clarity, and efficiency. Students pay tuition, professors deliver knowledge, and assignments become products exchanged for grades. Initially, I laughed – it felt relatable, even humorous – but soon that laughter turned into personal pedagogical reflection. I paused to consider: Have our theological classrooms unintentionally become marketplaces?Reflecting honestly on my teaching practices, I recognized an uncomfortable truth: sometimes my syllabus reads like a product description listing knowledge and theories, promising clear outcomes, neatly packaged insights, and efficient delivery. Subtle pressures – course evaluations, enrollment metrics, accreditation standards – often shape how I structure my courses, sometimes nudging me toward clear, measurable outcomes. I humorously imagine adding “Fast shipping guaranteed!” next to the grading criteria, but beneath the humor lies a serious question: Have I unintentionally reinforced transactional expectations in theological education?A student’s recent questions encapsulated my growing unease: “Will your class provide everything I need for effective pastoral care and counseling in ministry?” and “Will this material prepare me adequately for the State Licensed Professional Counselor exam?” Their sincerity reminded me of an Amazon customer checking product specs before placing an order. The questions made me pause and again consider transactional exchanges.The commodification of education isn’t new – Paulo Freire famously critiqued the “banking model,” where teachers deposit knowledge into passive students (Pedagogy of the Oppressed [Continuum, 2003], 72). Yet, the Amazon analogy brings a renewed sense of urgency for us. As theological educators, we may have internalized institutional priorities for clarity, efficiency, and predictability, reinforcing transactional interactions rather than transformative engagements. We may unintentionally frame knowledge as a neatly packaged commodity, delivered promptly and evaluated by customer satisfaction ratings in the form of course evaluations and professor rankings.However, a theological education which truly emphasizes formation often emerges through reflective collaboration, relational experiences, mutual empowerment, and communal learning – processes that are inherently less clear, less measurable, and less efficient in my teaching experience. This means theological education often isn’t neat or predictable; it thrives on ambiguity, relational vulnerability, and surprising discoveries. These messy and complicated processes invite unique transformations, precisely the opposite of what Amazon Prime delivery promises.As theological educators, we face an important challenge: What does it mean to create a learning community where students discover who they are becoming together, especially when our educational culture quietly favors predictable transactions over relational and messy learning?Learning with my students about how to care for each other and the community, I recall countless sessions where careful listening and authentic storytelling reshaped not only my students but myself as well. While I can’t pinpoint every transformative moment, I vividly remember instances when a student’s deeply personal narrative unexpectedly transformed class discussions, moments when students intentionally empowered each other through their presentations, and times when they embodied mutual care by genuinely and courageously sharing their presence and vulnerability. These experiences remind me daily of the profound power of empathic listening, communal care, and collective transformation – practices that inherently resist quick-fix, Prime delivery solutions.Acknowledging our complicity in this commodification is uncomfortable yet necessary. Rather than positioning students as consumers by saying student-centered pedagogies, we must reflect critically on our institutional and pedagogical practices. How do accreditation standards, enrollment pressures, and evaluation metrics shape our teaching and interactions? How might we, as theological educators, reclaim our agency and intentionally resist transactional frameworks?This critical reflection invites concrete shifts: embracing pedagogical practices that prioritize relational depth, tolerating ambiguity, and explicitly framing courses as collaborative journeys rather than neatly packaged transactions. It might also require courageous institutional conversations about how to evaluate genuine educational transformation rather than student satisfaction or predictable outcomes.If your theological “package” arrives later, messier, or even missing a piece or two, maybe consider it a hopeful sign. After all, genuinely transformative theological education rarely comes neatly boxed. Sometimes the best “deliveries” leave us slightly surprised, nervously laughing, and deeply transformed. Notes & Bibliography:Freire, Paulo. 2003. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. 30th anniversary ed. New York: Continuum.