Author: Gabrielle Likavec – Teaching and Learning Consultant, Office of Curriculum and Instructional Support
A recent Chronicle of Higher Education Teaching and Learning Newsletter focused on the idea of rediscovering joy in teaching, which gave me pause—not because I had lost my joy—far from it. Anyone who has ever made the mistake of asking me how my classes are going knows I can talk about them endlessly. But the article made me reflect on why, despite all the challenges, there is still nowhere I’d rather be than in the classroom.
In Joy Centered Pedagogy in Higher Education, Eileen Kogl Camfield describes joy as a catalyst for transformative teaching and learning. She pushes back against the idea that learning must be grueling, instead advocating for a shift from product to process, one that fosters engagement, resilience, and genuine curiosity.
For me, joy in teaching comes from exactly that: embracing the process. It’s in sharing a subject I’ve spent nearly half my life exploring, in watching students wrestle with ideas and making connections. It’s in building relationships that allow me to push them further, to challenge their thinking in ways that sometimes earn me sighs, groans, or the occasional eye roll—especially when I crack a particularly bad joke. But those moments of frustration, laughter, and discovery? That’s where the magic happens.
So, let’s start with the simple truth: I love my subject. As an undergrad, I dabbled in just about everything; something my student loan statements still remind me of. Over the years, I’ve tacked on certifications in skills ranging from computer programming to grant management, then dove headfirst into graduate studies. But it’s the last decade (and then some) spent geeking out over geography and education that has truly fueled me. There’s something about uncovering the intricate connections that shape our world that never gets old—and even better, helping students see why it all matters.
You know those magical moments in the classroom? When a student’s face suddenly lights up with an “Aha!” as they make a new connection? Or when the gears visibly start turning in their mind as they see a familiar concept from a completely fresh angle? Or when they raise their hand to ask a thought-provoking question that takes our discussion to a whole new level? Those moments fuel me; they remind me why I do this work.
Next, relationships. I asked a former student why he thought he thrived in my class when he found others challenging. His simple response was, “Your confidence in me grew my confidence in myself, and that is something that is unforgettable.” His insight struck at the heart of why our teaching is such a profound gift – we have the extraordinary privilege of shaping someone’s self-belief and future, all while earning a paycheck. That note now hangs on my wall, a reminder on challenging days that our work ripples far beyond the classroom.
Several studies back up what I’ve long believed: real learning happens when students feel challenged in a space that is both rigorous and supportive. For me, the joy comes from pushing them to go further, think deeper, and revise again when they were sure they were done. I tell them, with absolute sincerity, that I expect great things, and then I do everything I can to help them expect great things from themselves.
The magic is in that balance—setting the challenge while building the scaffolding that helps them rise to meet it. Sometimes, that means staying late for student hours, sending a quick email acknowledging their efforts, or taking the time to notice when they aren’t making an effort and inviting them to reach out for support. At the end of the day, students, like all of us, want to be seen. And when we choose to see their potential, they start to believe in it, too.
It is also the community we build in the classroom that keeps me coming back, no matter how long the day has been. Even after stepping into my role as a Teaching and Learning Consultant in CIS, a position I love for the opportunity to support other faculty, I’ve held onto my evening classes. There are nights when I ask myself why I’m adding two or three more hours to an already seemingly endless day. But then, the answer presents itself in the simplest, most joyful ways.
It’s in the students who arrive early to pull out the marker bins and sticky notes that are ubiquitous to my teaching, warmly greeting their peers as they wander into the room. Another student turns our whiteboard into a canvas every day, creating works of art to go along with the day’s topic and making us all smile. It’s the post-weekend check-in where the conversation ranges from workplace challenges to romantic first dates and inevitably ends with an update on the last episode of SNL. These authentic connections, this organic community-building – make teaching a privilege, not just a profession. These moments aren’t just classroom rituals, they are the sign of a learning community growing together.
And then, of course, there are the groans, the dramatic sighs when I tell them their argument needs another round of revision. The collective exasperation when I announce, “One more question before we move on” (knowing full well I can never stop at just one). The audible discomfort when I try to use the current slang and do it badly; they can’t help but react. I live for those moments.
Cheesy sayings, hands-on activities, and unfiltered enthusiasm are my secret weapons. I want my students to feel my excitement, to see that passion for learning isn’t something to hide, and to understand that even difficult concepts can be explored with curiosity and joy. If I can make them laugh while they’re struggling with a tough idea or get them to engage even when they’d rather not, then I know I’m doing something right.
Teaching is hard work. Some days are frustrating, exhausting, and full of self-doubt. When you add the additional research and service responsibilities, you have to wonder why we do it. But at the core of it, I love what I do. I love my subject, I love the challenge, and I even love the groans. And as long as my students keep sighing at my attempts to be cool and share their weekend updates with me, I know I’m in exactly the right place.
So now I ask you: what brings you joy in being faculty? Maybe it’s the moment when a struggling student finally grasps a difficult concept or the lively debates that erupt when your class becomes truly engaged. Perhaps it’s the relationships that extend beyond a single semester, the emails from former students who want to share their latest accomplishments, or the quiet satisfaction of knowing you made a difference, even if they don’t realize it yet. Whatever it is, hold onto it. Let it anchor you on the hard days and remind you why you chose this path in the first place. Because despite the challenges, the endless to-do lists, and the occasional exhaustion, we are part of something remarkable – helping students discover their potential, one “aha” moment at a time.
References
Camfield, Eileen Kogl. Joy-centered pedagogy in Higher Education: Uplifting Teaching and learning for all. New York, NY: Routledge, 2025.
Creasey, Gary, Pat Jarvis, and Elyse Knapcik. “A Measure to Assess Student-Instructor Relationships.” International Journal for the Scholarship of Teaching and Learning 3, no. 2 (July 1, 2009). https://doi.org/10.20429/ijsotl.2009.030214.
Ingraham, Kenchera C., Sandra J. Davidson, and Olive Yonge. “Student-Faculty Relationships and Its Impact on Academic Outcomes.” Nurse Education Today 71 (December 2018): 17–21. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.nedt.2018.08.021.
Pascarella, Ernest T., and Patrick T. Terenzini. How college affects students. vol. 2: A third decade of research. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2005.
Supiano, Beckie. “Teaching: Small Ways to Spark Joy in Your Teaching.” Teaching, February 6, 2025. https://www.chronicle.com/newsletter/teaching/2025-02-06.
Wang, Xue. “Exploring Positive Teacher-Student Relationships: The Synergy of Teacher Mindfulness and Emotional Intelligence.” Frontiers in Psychology 14 (November 29, 2023). https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2023.1301786.