Somewhere between syllabi and grading rubrics, between office hours and lectures that run five minutes over, lies a question we don’t ask ourselves often enough: What does it really mean to be a better instructor in post-secondary education?
We chase a lot of things in this field—engagement scores, student evaluations, seamless LMS navigation, and learning outcomes. We design activities with Bloom’s taxonomy in mind, adopt new technologies, and respond to email at midnight. But underneath all of that, there’s something more subtle at play. Something that doesn’t always show up in metrics or end-of-term surveys.
Is it about knowing your content so well that you can anticipate every question before it’s asked?
Or is it about knowing your students well enough to see the question they’re not asking?
Is it about the perfect lesson plan, or the moment when you throw it out because the room needed something else?
And what about power? In a system still shaped by grades, credentials, and hierarchy, how do we hold space for growth instead of compliance? How do we stay human in a system that often asks us to be efficient more than empathetic?
Maybe being a better instructor isn’t about doing more. Maybe it’s about pausing long enough to listen. To ourselves, to our students, to the silence in the room that’s just waiting for someone to name the thing no one’s said yet.
Maybe it’s about presence.
Or patience.
Or simply remembering what it felt like to be on the other side of the desk.
So ask yourself:
When was the last time you felt truly connected to your students?
What are they walking into your classroom carrying?
And what are you carrying that might be getting in the way?
There’s no single answer. But maybe that’s the point.
Maybe being a better instructor starts with wondering, not knowing.
And maybe the questions matter more than the credentials.