End-of-Semester Exhaustion

So it's the end of the semester again and I'm exhausted.  Is it something about 14 weeks that naturally leads us to be spent at the end?  I presume not; instead, I presume that it's the knowledge that the semester is coming to a close that makes one more tired.  This has got to be due, in part, to a sense of disappointment.  It seems like most semesters I begin with big plans for my class, from grandiose ideas about setting up in-class simulations to ordinary good practices such as not falling behind the syllabus.  But the last few weeks of the summer are spent polishing that article, the enthusiasm of the first few classes soon wanes, other matters (more scholarship, committee work, home) demand our attention, we start scrimping on teaching -- not just (or even mainly) on prep time but on sitting back and thinking about what we want to accomplish in the classroom.  Before too long ... well it's too change anything this semester.  Maybe next time.  Sigh.

Of course my teaching does get better year by year, as I suspect it does with most profs, at least unless and until they start to burn out.  I talk with my students more and lecture at them less.  We talk more about how the doctrine impacts what they do as lawyers.  And I try to let student comments guide the discussion while ensuring that the basic points get put out on the table, even if it leads to a class that seems more disorganized.

Still, the competing demands on my time have consistently led me to shy away from doing anything really innovative.  I used a new casebook this semester.  (For any non-profs out there, don't think that's a small thing; it can lead to a major reorganization of how you present the material and even how you test.)  But that's really nibbling around the edges of a major pedagogical change.

I worry that incentives in law schools are structured to disfavor pedagogical innovation.  Scholarship gets praise, service gets admiration, but good teaching serves in silence, at least officially.  You might get good student evaluations for trying something new -- but you also might get them if you're entertaining, or tell war stories, or spoon feed, or don't assign a lot of reading, or never call on anyone.  There's no guarantee that innovation gets you high reviews, especially if the roll-out is bumpy.  If you're lucky you'll eventually develop a reputation among your faculty colleagues as a great teacher who does lots of interesting things in the classroom.  That's a great thing, but in terms of public approval it's limited.

Ultimately, the reward for taking time on teaching is internal.  If you're lucky, it's internal to the class -- that is, the class, or a decent part of it, recognizes the good work or at least the effort.  But my sense is that more likely the reward is internal to the teacher only; only he or she recognizes a class well taught.  So I suspect a lot of us (me included), given our completely understandable motivations, don't put the time there.  And when it comes to the end of the semester, the main sense is one of exhaustion rather than something more positive.  It's unfortunate, and a disservice to our students.  The good news is that it's within our power to change.  Maybe next semester . . . .