Over the past few years, my blogging rate has fallen considerably, from two or three posts per month to more like once per month. There are a number of reasons for this tapering-off (including, but not limited to, "being a grown-up" and having neither the time nor the inclination to blab to the Internet as much as I did when I was seventeen). But if we're talking about the most recent period, from 2013 'til now, there's a more specific thing contributing to my blogging drought: my posts are typically inspired by day-to-day goings-on that I find interesting or discussable, and for the last two years the most interesting and discussable things in my life have been my students and my teaching. And as it happens, talking about students and teaching on the Internet is the kind of thing that can threaten your very livelihood and professional future.
That sounds dramatic, but the career-ending, worst-case scenarios associated with Being a Teacher on Social Media do tend to make headlines. In February, there was a widely publicized story about a Marquette University professor who lost his job over his [admittedly awful] blog, where he regularly criticized students and colleagues by name. In that case, the professor was fired after he posted a characteristically biased and outraged blog post, in which he railed against a graduate student whom he felt had handled a departmental issue incorrectly. This prompted his [surprisingly large horde of] angry readers to send the poor grad student threats and hate mail. The student had to withdraw from the university, and the department offered the professor a pink slip.
Granted, in this instance, the professor in question seems like the kind of jerk who would've gotten caught for something eventually. The Atlantic article I link to above notes that the prof was warned multiple times against keeping such an incendiary blog. Conceivably, as long as you're not obnoxiously stupid about your social media posting (say, don't use the names of your students, don't make overtly inflammatory remarks, etc.), there's really not much to worry about. It's perfectly safe to complain about a frustrating student, disappointing class, or departmental nonsense as long as you do so responsibly, without levying threats or naming names. There's even a whole subsection hosted by the Chronicle of Higher Education website (called "Dear Student") dedicated to this kind of "responsible" griping about students on the Internet.
As a current graduate student, though, (and thus in that messy space where I'm both technically a student and a teacher), I'm not keen on taking any risks. As far as I'm concerned, I should keep my mouth (or blogging-fingers) shut about my school, department, or students, lest it hurt my ability to get a job in the future with an employer who doesn't want someone with a record of being a little blabby. The job market is overflowing with excellent, qualified candidates, and I don't want someone to avoid hiring me because on Blogger I once mocked a student who couldn't distinguish there/their/they're.
Then again, I'm a risk-averse person. Maybe that level of caution seems overly paranoid to others. My blog isn't searchable, and it's not like I have a huge number of followers ready to publicize my opinions. There's probably no logical reason for me to avoid "reasonable" posting.
So let's set aside the Tin Foil Hat rationale for not posting about your teaching or students. For me, there's still an icky factor.
Just to be clear, the temptation for posting stories about students here or on Facebook is extremely high. Students regularly do and say the kind of off-the-wall things (example: arguing vehemently about the existence of mythical creatures) that make for excellent blog posts. My close friends and family members can attest that I frequently vent about my classes on the phone. And it can be especially satisfying to share these stories online, where you can elicit reactions and garner sympathies from fellow teachers who have been through similar ordeals. It's the same impulse that prompts my server friends to take to Facebook to gripe about the customer who made a scene about the plated presentation of her salmon filet and then left a giant handful of pennies as her tip on a $50 tab.
In other words, the core impulse to say, "Everyone! Please validate my feelings of injustice/bemusement/anger/pride!" is basically universal -- but not all situations carry the same stakes. The difference between students and restaurant customers is that (unlike restaurant-goers) the students in my class are in an unusually vulnerable position: they're there because they want to learn and are willing to go through the often embarrassing process of learning, in front of me, while I evaluate their progress. As a student in college, I was horrified enough to learn in my junior year that my professors would sometimes discuss their students amongst themselves. To learn that a teacher was posting online about my errors or deficiencies, even in an anonymized fashion, would feel like an immense betrayal of trust. As a teacher, I may inwardly seethe or laugh at a student or class, but it's my job to push those feelings away and outwardly root for my students and treat them with equanimity, particularly on a public forum like Facebook or a blog.
Due to this stance, I probably wound up blogging a bit less over the past two years. Somewhere, a very tiny violin wails.
On the bright side, in exactly two weeks this issue will remove itself, as I will finish with my program's teaching obligations and transition into a full year of unstructured dissertation-writing time. The downside is that dissertation writing doesn't provide many stories beyond the experience of slowly eroding eyesight or carpel tunnel syndrome.
I suppose I can always blog about wedding planning.
That's one of my favorite songs :B
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