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J e f f  F e a r n s i d e

Teaching Experience

With my latest position as Writing Instructor/Managing Editor of Alligator Juniper at Prescott College, I’m entering my sixth year of full-time university teaching, and my tenth year of work in higher education.

For the past two years, I taught a variety of classes at Western Kentucky University: Creative Writing, Fiction Writing, Introduction to Literature, Introduction to College Writing, and Writing in the Disciplines. As a Visiting Assistant Professor last year , I was nominated for a Faculty Award for Teaching.

From 1998 to 2000, while in Eastern Washington University’s Creative Writing Graduate Program (now the Inland Northwest Writer’s Center), I worked first as assistant director and then director of Writers in the Community. This innovative project oversees the training and placement of Eastern Washington University master’s candidates in Creative Writing teaching positions throughout the Inland Northwest, either as volunteers or for classroom credit. Placements include corrections facilities, hospitals, nursing homes, schools, shelters, and other community organizations. My primary teaching assignment was at West Valley High School in Spokane, Wash., where I taught Creative Writing weekly to two honors humanities classes for two quarters (Fall 1998 and Winter 1999) in addition to designing and leading WITC’s largest workshops.

After graduating, I worked for two years (2000-2002) at Washington State University as a writer for the WSU Foundation, editor for the WSU Press, and instructor in the Department of English. I then taught for two years (2002-2004) through the U.S. Peace Corps’ TEFL Program as a university instructor at the Academy of Languages in Shymkent, Kazakhstan, later returning at their request for the Fall 2005 semester.

In-between my two tenures there, from October 2004 to October 2005, I managed the Edmund S. Muskie Graduate Fellowship Program in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan. This prestigious U.S. State Department-funded program sends professionals from former Soviet states in Eurasia to study at the graduate level in the United States. Working with the Bureau of Educational and Cultural Affairs through the U.S. embassies in Almaty and Bishkek, I oversaw the recruiting, interviewing, and testing of applicants and the pre-departure orientation and training of Muskie Fellows in my two-country region.

The following links will take you to my statement of educational philosophy and complete curriculum vita.

Myself and some of my students at the Academy of Languages

Statement of Educational Philosophy

Education is the ability to listen to almost anything without losing your temper or your self-confidence.—Robert Frost

Frost’s definition of education strikes me as unusually insightful. It is exemplary in its very makeup: brief and commonsensical, with a streak of whimsical humor, something anyone, from student to teacher to administrator, can appreciate. And while it emphasizes the individual, suggesting that education is beneficial to the whole person, it also implies that education teaches us how to interact successfully with other people.

Like Frost, I believe that education is largely about listening—to others, to ourselves, to books and any artifact of the world around us—and growing in self-confidence, particularly in ways that allow us to admit that we do not, cannot, know everything.

When specifically referring to being a teacher of writing, however, the subject requires further discussion.

I have been a professional writer since 1992, a teacher since I entered graduate school in 1998. Are these two careers, writing and teaching, at odds with one another? I feel strongly that teachers of writing must be writers themselves. The practice of writing is what gives the writing teacher something worthwhile to pass on. Practicing writers also make the best models for aspiring writers. In that sense, my “research work”—my writing—is as important as my other priorities. It must be, for should I stop producing and start relying on past accomplishments, I would lose touch with the most important element I can share with my students: myself.

So, balance is key to how I approach teaching. Writing well involves being a good reader; learning the mechanics of form, such as authorial tone, style, and yes, even grammar; and understanding both the foundation on which contemporary writing rests (which means learning about previous literary periods) and how others read and react to writing (which means learning about critical theory). Just as importantly, writing involves learning about one’s self, examining and ordering one’s experiences, discovering what one has to say, and discovering further still one’s own unique way of saying it.

As a student, I benefited richly from the experiences of my teachers, and as a teacher, I now bring years of my own experience and acquired knowledge to the classroom. Thus, my teaching philosophy rests solidly on two beliefs:

Specifically, I aim to achieve these ideals by consciously performing the following actions:

Following are two examples from my own teaching career that I consider of special significance.

The first occurred at Washington State University. After completing my literary survey class, Writing About Literature, one student approached me and said, “Normally, I sell back my books at the end of the semester. But I’m going to keep the ones we read in this class.” Even if this student eventually forgets the critical theories we discussed and practiced, I am pleased that he will likely be a lifelong reader of literature.

The second event occurred in Almaty, Kazakhstan, where I met one of my former students at an official dinner celebrating his selection as a participant in a U.S. exchange program. Having been eligible for this program for only three years, he had made it on his third and final try. As his teacher the previous year, I had urged him to overcome his occasional uncertainties, to keep working toward his goals. Seeing me again, he expressed his appreciation for my help.

“You told me to keep trying, and I did,” he said proudly. He praised my teaching, let me know that our university missed me, but then added something I will never forget: “Most of all, you taught me how to be a good person.”

I wish both young men, as I wish all my students, the best academic and professional success. But as long as they continue to grow into their own greater human potential, whether one book at a time or in a faraway foreign country, I will consider myself successful.