The Teaching Confessions of a Shy Guy: A Personal Journey of Transformation

In the fall semester of that year, I had taken an introductory class in astronomy.  I found this particular class extremely interesting and looked forward to attending—that is until the professor informed us of a mandatory group project which included presenting in front of the class’s two-hundred students.  The fateful day had arrived, and I wish I could tell you that it was uneventful.  I had managed to finish my portion of the presentation, albeit with a trembling voice, and proceeded to hang around on stage until the rest of my team finished theirs.  That’s when the panic hit -a wave of adrenaline so uncomfortable that you simply feel like running away—to anywhere.  And that’s just what I did.  I excused myself as nonchalantly as possible and left the room right in the middle of a presentation.  I paced the hallway until the anxiety subsided.  Afterward, I was mortified.  I thought I had embarrassed myself in front of the entire class.  In hindsight, nobody really cared, but as someone who suffers from shyness and anxiety, this event brought my whole future into question.

When I first entered college, I didn’t really know what career path I wanted to pursue.  That changed after observing certain enthusiastic professors.  These women and men seemed to take pleasure in imparting their knowledge to students, and they brought a certain amount of passion to their job through lectures, research, and service to the community that I found incredibly inspiring.  Fairly quickly, I realized that I wanted to do that.  I wanted ultimately to take pleasure in my job, something I had never experienced up to that point.  I, therefore, decided to pursue a career in teaching and researching history.  There was just one problem with that career path: all my life I had been terrified of public speaking.  I was shy.  Painfully so.  Yet, I always felt like I might one day be able to overcome this fear.  The incident in astronomy class, however, reaffirmed that maybe I would have to reorient my life goals.  Perhaps I would have to find a career in which there is no audience—or as little one as possible.

As far back as I can remember, I have been an introvert.  I never had many friends in school, and I could usually be found alone on the playground or in the cafeteria.  I was, however, okay with that.  I didn’t necessarily care to get to know new people, and I certainly had no interest in class activities that required me to “share with the class.”  I begrudgingly endured class presentations, usually coming out unscathed . . . usually.  I do remember one instance, however, when during a particular presentation, I started laughing uncontrollably for no apparent reason.  Another embarrassment to add to the public speaking list.  So, why would someone who has struggled with extreme shyness decide to pursue a career in teaching?  The answer is complicated.

Whether it is an advantage or a curse, the desire to “improve” myself is an obsession of mine.  Like everyone else, I have multiple shortcomings, but since my early twenties, I have attempted to try to overcome them, with varying degrees of success.  The idea of teaching, although terrifying, was one way in which I felt I could overcome my fears and excel.  I believed that if I conquered my anxieties concerning public speaking, I could potentially be an extremely effective teacher and actually enjoy it.  So, despite the incident in astronomy class, I dug in my heels and continued down the path I had set for myself.  After graduating from college, I applied to graduate school and was accepted; for better or for worse, teaching was the profession that I was committed to.

But the fear that the disaster of astronomy class would repeat itself remained.  That fear did not stop me, however, from pursuing my goals.  On the contrary, fear can be a great motivator.  Late into my graduate career, I sought a teaching fellowship sponsored by the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation by way of the The Humanities Collaborative at EPCC-UTEP.  The Collaborative would allow me to hone my teaching skills while working under the tutelage of a community college faculty mentor.  This seemed like the perfect opportunity to improve my teaching skills and conquer my fear of public speaking.  The Humanities Collaborative would, for the first time, allow me to teach history to students throughout a full semester.  I was awarded the fellowship, thus commencing a semester-long journey that was rife with both struggles and successes.  We tend to think of teachers shaping the lives of students, but I never could have imagined how much teaching would shape me.

The Humanities Collaborative at EPCC-UTEP has given me the tools that I need to be not only an effective teacher, but a good teacher.  The experience of teaching my own course throughout the semester has been an invaluable way for me to overcome my fears and insecurities and conduct class with passion and confidence.  As someone who never particularly relished the spotlight, this experience has shown me that I can actually be comfortable as the center of attention.  Like the professors I observed during my undergraduate years, I find myself passionately imparting my knowledge to the students.  I’ve come to see my role in the spotlight as not as a burden but as a privilege.  Experience teaching has also increased my overall confidence.  I have never been a particularly confident person, but the repetition of being in front of a classroom with all eyes and ears on me has given me an air of confidence I had been missing.  I can tell that the students are engaged, interested, and most of all, learning.  I am honored to be a part of that process.  Giving students the tools they need to go into the professional world and be successful gives me a sense of pride, confidence, and well-being.  I know I’m affecting the lives of the students in some small way, and that alone is enough to increase my confidence in myself and my duties as a teacher. 

My experience teaching has shaped the way that I comprehend myself and my shortcomings.  I now know that it is possible to overcome fears and anxieties if you’re willing and able to put in the work.  I had to confront panic and my own doubts and worries.  I’ve come out stronger for it.  I’m more confident, more passionate, and I dare say I enjoy what I do.  Disappearing is the timid student in astronomy class with a trembling voice running for the exit.  In his place is someone with a renewed sense of confidence.  Through the experience of teaching, I am witnessing myself becoming the beloved and impassioned professors of my past.

Written by Ian Anson Lee, The University of Texas at El Paso
Doctoral Teaching Fellow, The Humanities Collaborative at EPCC-UTEP