My teaching interests lie in the early modern period. Two of my most illuminating and productive courses looked to early modern women’s writing to Milton. I had the pleasure of teaching these two classes in the same semester and found that there were many occasions when they informed one another. For instance, Aemilia Lanyer’s representation of the fall from paradise in Salve Deus Rex Judaeorum (1611) and the text’s call to Queen Anne can be usefully taught in reference to the creation of the King James Bible (1611) and its association with James’ court. Salve Deus and the King James Bible can be taught alongside earlier versions of the Genesis chapter seen in Codex Junius 11 (Genesis A & B), the Wycliff Bible (1395), the Geneva Bible (1560), and all these texts can comment on the creation myth as it appears into John Milton’s Paradise Lost (1667). Assessing multiple representations of the same story (produced contingently and chronologically) suggests how literary meaning is created in context, if not in direct communication, with the cultures around it.

I have also taught early modern literatures and early modern popular cultures from a broader perspective. These courses are likewise temporally and spatiality aligned; however, the approaches taken to teaching them are different. The literary class, whether focused on a single period (such as the sixteenth or seventeenth century) or concentrating on single author and literary groups, presents a panoramic tapestry, rich with the many literary threads studied. One can, for instance, read the divergent representations of platonic love seen in Katherine Philips, passionate desire seen in Lady Mary Wroth, and sexual disappointment lamented by Aphra Behn as part of a long section of the early discourse of love, a genre generally associated with the cavalier poets by many undergraduate students. Cultural histories ask us to look at beliefs, practices, and the small records of every day lives. I am interested in looking at populous texts in tension with “new” populous texts – the stories of the witch, the prophet, the miracle, and the monster – with the emerging push for a new learned literacy for the doctors (Robert Burton, 1621) and midwives (Jane Sharpe, 1671), wives (Hannah Woolley, 1664), and servants (Isabella Whitney, 1693). Moreover, in reading literary and medical texts along with recipe books and common place books, we can see just how closely the passionate and practical stood together on the transposed from printed to the private page. This textual fluidity was brought about by early modern reproduction practices – practices which are, for better or worse, not that different from many contemporary ones.

Teaching literature is a way of teaching students to think, speak, and write clearly and critically. That is what they take away from a literary class – the thing that, beyond a love of learning, which will serve them best. The essay is the key to this: it is where real critical engagement happens. The essay is the hardest thing for a student to learn and creating a good thesis is the hardest part of all. It is a struggle to write a good paper. Students may come to a class knowing how to read, but few know how to find. I am invested in teaching students solid technical skills for finding useful primary and secondary sources in digital and print mediums. More often than not, students, pressed for time, begin their research at home using an online resource like Google, where “William Shakespeare” returns 15,600,000 hits and “Robert Burton,” 1,740,000. It is critical to teach students online research literacy as well as library search techniques. It is likewise crucial to show them how published scholars use sources, as they will, to support their own arguments. The most effective time to help students with their writing is when essays are in progress. In looking over drafts and discussing papers, I help students forge connections and locate places where there are logical gaps to fill or pieces of evidence to hunt down. Writing is one of the most productive processes for student learning. The more writing – and editing – the better, because an essay is a bit of art. Like art, one needs to produce an essay with conviction and passion, but also to know when, finally, to let it go.

Teaching upper division classes gives me a chance to roll up my sleeves and really dig in and engage with texts. The survey courses, from Beowulf to Virginia Woolf, are tasting menus – a chance to present sample after sample in a meal of elaborate literary amuse-bouche. On those occasions when the class takes off on an idea – they bunt opinions around and lose their shyness in a moment of real critical engagement – teaching in a classroom happens almost effortlessly. However, inquiries in office hours, where an idea develops across a furrowed brow and breaks into a tentative response followed by a relieved smile, is where one can best see the spark of an idea turn into a flame. Ultimately, teaching is about negotiating competing student agendas, goals, and skill levels. It is about setting up expectations where students want to advance their thinking and improve their written and verbal communication so they can become better scholars and prepare for their next year of challenging classes or for the rigors of a professional life outside the academy. In the same way, teaching forces me to express myself clearly, challenges me to find new ways into texts, and constantly prompts me to reevaluate my audience and my persuasive skills. If I can convince myself and my students, there is a good chance my peers can be convinced as well.