By Tim Chartier

When I entered graduate school, my dream was to be a college professor. After over two decades of teaching higher education, I still dream—largely about my classroom. I read MAA periodicals, attend meetings, and read MAA Connect and find that I incrementally move toward that dream classroom.

My dream classroom isn’t achieved only when we sit in rapt attention with constant sharing of ideas. That may be a dream moment. For me, classes have their seasons. We, as people, won’t always come to class energetic. Some days, we are all engaged and eager. Some days, I’m struggling and I lean on your energy. Some days, you lean on mine. And, sometimes, especially during the busy time of midterms, we may all come struggling, and we meet in that place and engage with who we are and where we are. We learn as we are.

This, though, takes a level of authenticity. We know from friendships and relationships that authenticity takes time and isn’t always easy. This type of classroom embraces our time together as a human experience. I strive for the classroom to embrace our humanity. That takes work. The professor sets the environment, which takes careful thought, reflection and planning to maintain. To show our humanity, to whatever depth, takes trust. 

Let’s imagine we are sitting in a lounge and snuggled into comfortable couches or chairs. We seemingly sink into the bolsters, as if they are hugging us. A group of us are sharing as we sit there. We’re connected. Time seems motionless. Our conversation weaves in and out of different topics. We meander without purpose but somehow seem, all the while, to be headed somewhere – somewhere meaningful. Our time in that lounge is one of those good moments, connected moments. Then, one of us asks, “What’s one of your best memories of being in class?” I ask, “Being a student or teaching?” Someone responds, “Either. Oh, and it doesn’t necessarily need to be math class. Let’s pick a class, any class, even before college.” 

So, sink into that couch, take a breath and sit with your memories. What comes to mind? What class or classes come to mind? You may swirl within an ocean of memories or narrow your view into one specific example. What do you see in your mind’s eye? What softens your heart or brings a smile to your face?

If we really sunk comfortably into cushions, we’d only share so much. How much we shared would depend on who was on that couch. We quite simply have to get to know each other and even that takes steps of familiarity. My goal is for a class to make steps in becoming a community, finding belonging, and finding “place”.

A trusting community is a place where we can reflect and sometimes even become more aware of who we are. That can be tricky in math. Take me as a professor. I can easily want to teach like someone else. I can think of Julie Barnes, Edray Goins, Hortensia Soto, Talithia Williams, Francis Su, or Ron Taylor among many others. “Oh, to only teach like them!” Yet, most of the time, what I really want is to create the connection with students that I see each of them make. But I can’t create that exact connection. It’s theirs. And they almost certainly have different connections with different classes. I do want to see what others do so I broaden my teaching. But I also have to be myself even with my images of other math professors. My classroom should affirm who I am as a mathematician and affirm the mathematician in my students.

I make a point on the last day of class to tell my students that they ARE mathematicians. They’ve made it through the course, even if this was their first college math class and, also, the last math class of their life. Regardless of the level of the math class, each student reached and took a college math class. To the students I note, “You can inspire others regarding their place.” In class, I’ve had students, both majors and nonmajors, become teary with those words. They are often tears of relief, tears coming as a burden lessens, and tears of a meaningful moment to be remembered. I dream of a classroom where we find the mathematician in ourselves and not simply how to be the type of mathematician we see in others.  

Let’s look at one more aspect of my dream classroom. I usually state on the first day of class that my goal is that on the last day, we wish there was one more day. We miss seeing new things, thinking about new things, and quite simply being together. There are moments when I achieve more than this; it happens one student or one small group at a time. The moment that’s unfolding is not just a positive story. It’s more: it’s a lifelong memory, and the student and I often know, or at least sense, this in that moment.

These are only a few of my dreams for a classroom. Which of your dreams have I not captured? My dreams can enlarge with yours. Your dreams may be a key to why you’ll be that memorable professor for a student. Some of my dreams will inherently differ from yours, which creates a tapestry of learning. And, for me, I’m grateful for the dreams that you have and will achieve. I look forward to when I’ll learn about them via MAA Connect, meetings, or this very blog. 

 Tim Chartier is the Joseph R. Morton Professor of Mathematics and Computer Science at Davidson College.