I have been teaching political science for more than twenty-five years: two decades as a professor at the University of New Mexico, where I arrived in 2005, a year before that as a lecturer at UC Davis, and four years as a graduate teaching assistant while completing my Ph.D. For most of that time, my teaching philosophy rested on four principles — enthusiasm, professionalism, creativity, and relevance — and it still does.
But I have come to understand my role differently than I once did. Yes, I teach American politics, and I don't take that lightly at a time when an already uninformed public is bombarded by misinformation. More than that, I use American politics to teach students to think critically. Suppose a constituency believes that 2+2=5 and elects a representative who takes positions accordingly. Is that legislator a "good" representative? Questions like this push students beyond the nuts and bolts of the political system and force them to wrestle with complex concepts like the meaning of representation itself.
What I have come to appreciate, though, is that teaching political science is only part of the job. Students today work harder than ever to get into college, yet many arrive unsure what to do once they're here — and even less sure what comes after. Most of my office hours are no longer spent on course material. They are spent helping students choose a major, find an internship, weigh graduate school against law school, approach a professor or a potential employer, or simply balance school and work. On any given day, I might draw as much on my thirty years as a youth sports coach and my two decades as a father as on anything I learned in graduate school.
That realization has reshaped how I teach. My philosophy has become inseparable from my mentoring: student-centered, built on listening, mutual trust, and respect for students' own goals. I work to make sure every student is heard, and I challenge myself to ensure that everyone I teach or advise leaves with something new — whether a deeper understanding of political representation or an internship that changes their trajectory. My aim, in the end, is simple: to help students find the support they need to keep the hope and optimism they deserve.
Beyond my regular courses in American politics, I routinely supervise internships, direct honors theses and dissertations, lead directed readings for graduate students, and mentor undergraduates through programs like the Fred Harris Congressional Internship Program, the Mellon Mays Undergraduate Fellowship, and the McNair Scholars Program — close to two hundred students in a typical semester, not counting those I mentor informally.