Tag: writing

Winter Quarter, Full Classrooms, and Finding the Rhythm Again

The Winter 2026 quarter is in the books.

For the first time since COVID, I was back teaching full-time in person. This quarter, I taught Intro to Programming and Problem Solving (CS50P), PHP with SQL 1, and Web Interface Design. Walking back into full classrooms again felt good. There is something about hearing students talk before class starts, seeing whiteboards filled, watching students help each other, and feeling the energy in the room that you simply cannot recreate online.

I’ll be honest, though. Teaching full-time in person really drains you. There’s something about it that feels like being part of an interactive educational show. You’re on your feet, constantly moving, reading the room, trying to keep students interested, answering questions, shifting gears, and making sure no one gets left behind. That gets harder with age, and by the end of some days, I definitely feel it.

Attendance was close to 100% throughout the quarter. Participation counts for 30% of the grade, which certainly helps, but students still had to choose to show up, be engaged, ask questions, contribute, and work with each other. They did, and that meant a lot. College works better when people are actually in the room together.

There were some struggles, too. One of the software development tools we needed was not accessible in our classrooms, so students had to spend the first 15 to 20 minutes of class installing it on their own devices before we could even begin. That became an unexpected routine for a while. It was frustrating, and it took away valuable class time. That is probably a story for another day.

Students today are different from those they were six years ago. Their confidence has changed. Their communication styles have evolved. Their attention spans are shorter. The world has shaped them differently. However, one thing remains the same: students still seek connection, support, structure, encouragement, and someone who believes in them.

This quarter reminded me why I still love teaching. There is something special about a full classroom, pizza days, rubber ducks on tables, group work, inside jokes, and the quiet student who finally raises their hand for the first time.

I am grateful for all of it.

And thank you to Juniper, Katie, Theo, Tiffany, Chef Earl, Niira, Fellene, Robert, Tom, Zach, Karl, Adam, Lucy, David, Rongxin, and, of course, Gayle for helping make the quarter a success.

Bringing it Back to the Classroom

Today, my classes, which usually meet on Zoom, gathered in person. And wow, what a difference. You can read the room in ways you simply can’t through a screen. You see confusion, curiosity, lightbulbs flicking on, and you can adjust right there in real time. When students are right in front of you, you can sense when something isn’t clicking and pivot immediately. That kind of feedback loop makes teaching feel alive again.

After today, I’m convinced. Starting this winter, I’ll be bringing my courses back to being fully in person. I’ll still have a few online sections, but not many. My goal is to get them all back to the classroom eventually. There’s an energy and rhythm that come from being together that technology can’t replicate.

Because it was our first in-person class in a while, I handed out rubber ducks to each student. They’re part of how I teach coding, a symbol of debugging, reflection, and patience. Watching students line them up on their laptops made me grin. It reminded me that learning works best when it’s hands-on, a little playful, and shared with others.

To top it off, my morning class enjoyed cookies, pumpkin loaf, and scones from the Clark College bakery. For a moment, the room felt like a true community again, warm, curious, and connected.

There’s also an honesty to being in a physical classroom. You can’t hide behind AI or a screen. You have to show up, think on your feet, and engage. That’s where the real learning happens. And yes, I’m still an AI proponent. My students use it, and I teach them how to use it responsibly. However, AI doesn’t replace the value of showing up, questioning ideas, or learning face-to-face.

Technology has its place, but the best learning still happens when we share the same energy, the same attention, and the same spark that only real presence can create.

After five hours of what can only be described as interactive educational theater, I’m wiped. But in the best possible way.

Fellow educators, have you experienced this difference as well?

Tenure Made Me a Worse Professor (But I’m Taking It Back)

Today, May 24, marks my second anniversary of tenure. And I’ve got a confession. Tenure made me a worse professor.

Not worse in the “I don’t care anymore” sense. I still show up. I still teach my heart out. I still hand out pizza and rubber ducks, as if they were course materials. But something shifted during that long, grueling tenure process and hasn’t entirely returned.

The tenure process trains you to be careful. You learn to document everything, justify everything, and reflect on everything until your teaching feels more like a performance than a practice. You stop experimenting because experiments might not look great on paper. You stop taking risks because risks don’t always make for clean committee reports.

And if you’re not careful, you start teaching like someone is always watching. Because for a while, someone is.

That’s what happened to me. I slowly backed away from the version of myself who took bold swings and tried weird ideas. I started playing it safe, saying no to chaos and yes to control. I polished everything, trimmed the messy parts, and stopped leaning into the stuff that made my teaching mine.

But here’s the thing. I’m two years in now. I’ve got the stability. The security. The keys to the castle.

And I’m done playing small.

I want the pre-tenure Bruce back, who did things that made students laugh, think, and engage. The one who brought music into lessons. The one who asked, “What if?” instead of “Will this fit in my tenure binder?” The one who knew learning is supposed to be messy, unpredictable, and sometimes a little loud.

If tenure turned down your volume, I hear you. If it made you cautious, you’re not alone. But now that we’re here, we can choose how we show up again.

I’m choosing to take it back, one student, one duck, one slightly chaotic lesson at a time.

Let’s go.