I started teaching in the summer of 2003 and I now teach a wide variety of courses. My introductory-level Q courses “Overview of the Universe” (Astro2), “The Solar System” (Astro3) and “The Stars” (Astro4) attract a very broad and diverse group of students. I also teach a lower-division class for science majors “Life in the Universe” (Astro16), which covers a broad range of issues related to the new and interdisciplinary science of Astrobiology. I recently taught a physics class for pre-med and science majors (Physics 6B), dealing with thermodynamics, and wave optics. Finally, I developed and taught a course on the history of astronomy (Astro80D), which covers the evolution of ideas underlying astronomy and astrophysics. Next quarter, I will offer this class as a W course.

It is stimulating and challenging to teach a wide range of courses to a wide range of students. This allows me to discover, rediscover and bring across the wonderful connections between different areas, and between the different people who take my classes. I feel fortunate to have the opportunity to spread my enthusiasm for learning. During the Renaissance, scientists were generally artists and musicians as well as prolific writers. However, the exponential growth of knowledge and discovery has forced us to become highly specialized. We often lose sight of the big picture. I see a tremendous need in myself and in my students to rediscover this Renaissance ideal and apply it to my classes.

Each class targets a different group, so I must continuously adjust my pedagogical approach. I think that the flexibility to promptly assess the level and needs of a given class is crucial to success. There are, however, a few core principles to which I always adhere:

1) Science stems from a process of inquiry, not from a system of beliefs. I encourage critical thinking by engaging the students in discussions, by posing questions, and by questioning myself as I teach. Does this make sense? is the most important question that can be asked during a science class.

2) I enjoy unraveling the hidden aspects of astronomy and physics. I encourage my students to think deeply, beyond the rigidity of a formula or a physical law. Finally,

3) I convey a deep appreciation for discoveries and this sweeps into other aspects of the students’ lives.

For non-science majors, I developed a dimensionless scaling method, which eliminates arbitrary physical constants and expresses quantities in relation to familiar objects, thus obviating the plug-and-chug of meaningless numbers. For example, with the full Moon as reference, if we relate distances to the Earth-Moon distance, and sizes to the true size of the Moon, we can better imagine how Jupiter would appear as viewed from one of its satellites. My approach invites the students to travel to an alien world in their mind’s eye, and to apply reason in the face of an algebraic expression.

All my classes are filled with demonstrations, most home-made. A scale model of the solar system might involve placing appropriately sized fruits and spices at precomputed locations on Science Hill. The students learn that with very little expense they too can construct such experiments. Moreover, the process of imagining the unfamiliar makes the class a lot more fun, and motivates most students to work harder. My classes carry a tough homework load, but my homework problems are always “real”. They are based on recent findings and are hence immediately relevant. I am keen to show the students that the ability to evaluate an assertion made in the media can be significantly empowering and enlightening: Many people have heard that a super-massive black hole lurks at the center of our galaxy, but to actually calculate its mass from observations is something every student can be deeply proud of. This reinforces their self-confidence in dealing with science. My courses impart an ability to parse and interpret the indigestible wealth of information that the media throws at the public. Learning how to filter signal from noise is important in shaping critical thinking. I hence assign the analysis of articles or images from a variety of sources, from the local newspaper to the abstracts of scientific papers. Likewise, I try to avoid serving them a formula or a law, but guide them to its discovery. Instead of asserting how something is done, I ask them how they might figure it out: “How would you measure the distance to the stars?” At every level, I stress the importance of being able to critically evaluate a theory: How our theory for the formation of the Moon accounts for its properties is at least as important as knowing how the Moon formed.

I consistently point the students to state-of-the-art astronomy-related websites, and my assignments require active use of these resources. For example, the ability to produce a customized map of the night sky may come in handy beyond the scope of the class. For science majors, my interactive assignments get increasingly sophisticated, requiring the usage of Internet sites that serve professional astronomers.

Although I constantly incorporate modern resources, I am old-fashioned when it comes to getting to know my students. I achieve this by teaching my own sections, by recording all of the students’ work, by encouraging active contributions during the lectures, which helps me connect names with individuals. I value a student’s courage to speak up rather than hide behind anonymous procedures of communication. I believe that supporting direct communication contributes to shape the students into critical and active members of society. I know I’ve reached my students when they feel welcome to knock at my door to ask questions and discuss matters that are important to them, when students who entered my class with no mathematical confidence emerge with an outstanding record, when they entered the class with no interest in the subject, and leave with the desire to learn more.

With non-science majors, it’s effective to relate the material to their familiar world and I see this as a fulfillment of the Renaissance ideal. In some sense, this implies speaking their language and seeds open-mindedness and a spirit of cooperation in the quest for knowledge. Poetry, literature, music and artwork, whenever influenced by astronomy, are a small but vital part of my class. Often, these are contributions from past students, who were inspired to find ties between astronomy and their own interests. I’m proud to acknowledge and to remember them.

A class is never over when it ends. I make an effort to stay in touch with my students. I invite them to stargazing meetings, which I organize for the whole campus community, or I go out with them for lunch or a cup of tea. I am happy to see them do well in their classes and I support their efforts in every way I can.

My primary motivation for teaching is to inspire people to see beyond the dark patches of sky into the layers that are not immediately accessible to our eyes. My hope is that they will then continue to see subtle connections with every step they take. Astronomy can teach more than science. Learning about our Universe gives us a better understanding of everything we treasure on Earth. It instills a responsibility to preserve our unique and privileged place.