Reflections on my 10th Anniversary of Teaching

I became a teacher purely by accident. It wasn’t a calling. I had no training or even aspirations toward the field. I first taught out of desperation in fact, taking my first teaching job simply because it was the first steady, paying opportunity offered to me after the triple whammy of a divorce, the 2007-2008 Writers’ Guild strike and the 2008 recession.

I had no idea what I was doing, but I knew how to make a movie so I figured I could teach others how to do it too. I started with one class at USC’s School of Cinematic Arts, where I oversaw the production of 15 short films over the course of the semester, five trios of students rotating roles in a project-based class covering the disciplines of producing, directing, editing, cinematography, sound recording and design.

Some of the films worked, some didn’t. Some students had talent and a point of view, others were less blessed. But I learned from all of my students as they learned from me. I figured out how much I knew by sharing it, and strengthened my own beliefs about good storytelling. Many of my students had technological savvy far beyond my own, as well as histories and stories that challenged me. Teaching and working with people from all over the globe stretched my worldview.

Ten years later, I have overseen the development and production of hundreds of student films. I’ve taught all over the country. My students’ films have appeared in countless festivals, including Cannes and Sundance; this year a film developed in my thesis preparation class was awarded a student Oscar. I’ve watched proudly as many of my students became professionals, winning awards and making waves. Teaching became an unexpectedly vital part of my identity.

In the ten years I’ve been teaching I’ve supported students through marriages and divorces, falls off the wagon, unexpected pregnancies, abortions, births, deaths of loved ones, car accidents, traumatic brain injuries, single parenthood, heartbreaks, coming out as gay or transgender, panic attacks, opioid addiction, mental illness, serious physical illness, arrests, and visa and immigration problems. In short, through some of the most challenging parts of life. Teaching filmmaking inevitably means helping students grapple with their struggles as they process them through the lens of their art.

Any educational environment needs to be safe intellectually: how else can we explore the issues of our society, identities and history? How else can we encourage students to think critically? To learn to ask the right questions and process the answers? Challenge themselves and others in a respectful way? We need classrooms where everyone’s thoughts can be shared and our beliefs expressed. This is especially true when the work of the class is as self-revealing as film making.

It’s damn hard work being a teacher. The managing of personalities and ideologies, the need to keep the curriculum fresh, the way one bad apple can throw a rotten stink over an entire semester. But the rewards are great. I’ve befriended many of my former students and my colleagues as well. I often say I’ve gotten more from teaching and mentoring than I’ve ever given and I mean it every time.

As I was writing this piece today, reflecting on this 10 year anniversary, I paused to check my email, not entirely certain how I wanted this piece to end.

I knew I was headed toward an argument against what I see as the ludicrous idea of arming teachers.

In my inbox, an email informed me of the date and time of an active shooter drill at USC, encouraging all faculty and student assistants to attend. It makes me sick that at every place of learning in this country people are afraid. That students and teachers are training to deal with an active shooter as a matter of course.

It’s hard enough to create a successfully safe academic environment, without worrying about our physical safety. This email shook me to the core. No one teaches for the money. We teach for the students. For those moments of breakthrough, understanding and connection, which are hard enough to achieve. Why can’t we just get rid of the fucking guns? Is that too much to ask?