A Pedagogy of Kindness (Teaching, Engaging, and Thriving in Higher Ed)

by Catherine J. Denial

Academia is not, by and large, a kind place. Individualism and competition are what count. But without kindness at its core, Catherine Denial suggests, higher education fails students and instructors—and its mission—in critical ways.

Part manifesto, part teaching memoir, part how-to guide, A Pedagogy of Kindness urges higher education to get aggressive about instituting kindness, which Denial distinguishes from niceness. Having suffered beneath the weight of just "getting along," instructors need to shift every part of what they do to prioritizing care and compassion—for students as well as for themselves.

A Pedagogy of Kindness articulates a fresh vision for teaching, one that focuses on ensuring justice, believing people, and believing in people. Offering evidence-based insights and drawing from her own rich experiences as a professor, Denial offers practical tips for reshaping syllabi, assessing student performance, and creating trust and belonging in the classroom. Her suggestions for concrete, scalable actions outline nothing less than a transformational discipline—one in which, together, we create bright new spaces, rooted in compassion, in which all engaged in teaching and learning might thrive.

Genres: Teaching, Nonfiction, Academia, Psychology, Education, Womens

164 pages, Paperback

Published July 16, 2024

Reviews

[Monica · Rating 5 out of 5]

I had high hopes for this book, and they were met and exceeded. What an engaging, useful book! I've got a list of small changes I'm planning to make to my classes (the chapter on syllabus design alone is worth the price of the book), and I'm excited to see what ideas emerge when my colleagues meet to discuss this book this fall.

[Mike Zickar · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a powerful book that packs a lot into its short 104 pages of text. The author advocates for an ethos of kindness to permeate through our work in the classroom. She has chapters on kindness to self (most important to me), kindness in your syllabus, in assessment and in the classroom..

Throughout the book, I appreciated the examples and anecdotes plus the many endnotes that provide rich follow-up information.

I started reading this book right before the beginning of an academic year and I realized I needed to put it down to be kind to myself as I was overwhelmed with the start of another school year. I was glad I picked it back up nearly a year later, in a better space to soak in the information and inspiration.

[Gisela · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved every single second of this book. It may sound cliché, but it's true. In a world where you can be anything, why not choose kindness? I often hear complaints from professors and colleagues about students being lazy and cheating, that we are in a crisis, and that the glory days (pre-COVID) are gone. This book made me realize that we shouldn't aim to return to the pre-COVID days. Our students need kindness, flexibility, and compassion. Opposed to popular belief, 75% of students are non-traditional, and academia has not been kind to them or to us. We should create space for exploration, accessibility, and accommodations. Loved the idea of tearing down barriers for students rather than building them.

[Keith Mathias · Rating 5 out of 5]

An excellent distillation of what centering kindness in our pedagogies means

[Mark · Rating 3 out of 5]

I always have higher hopes than I should for the popular-level pedagogical books which I read. This one was for a teacher book club on campus, and I enjoyed it about as much as I thought I would. The problem wasn't that I disagreed with some of it, but mainly that it was so short, and thus at times felt superficial. Even though its ideas weren't original, it did give me reminders of some pedagogical ideas I should revisit and try implementing, especially so that I don't get complacent with my teaching.

Right off the bat, I appreciated that Catherine Denial differentiated Kindness and Niceness. The etymology of "nice" tells a fascinating story, and this was a solid starting and ending place for the text. Building off of this, she asked why we stress rigor and standards but not also kindness and empathy. In theological parlance, this invokes the distinction between orthodoxy and orthopraxy (as well as orthopathy, a new word I just learned today). In theology as in pedagogy, it's not enough to simply know the right answers; it also matters that you act upon that knowledge and do so lovingly. As Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 13, "if you have not love..."

In the case of Denial, she is willing to take the calculated risk of believing her students (and risk being taken advantage of) rather than being legalistic and strict (which hurts students who are already hurting). This approach reminds me of the classic adage: "It is better that ten guilty persons escape than that one innocent suffer." Though I've met people who argue the opposite, I've run across this more merciful concept in many thinkers and writers, and I'm thankful for that. I definitely fall closer to the side of mercy, at least in justice and politics. However, I realized while reading this part of the book that I haven't quite been consistent in applying this same principle to my students.

Right now, I have an international student who used AI on a few different assignments. He claims his AI use was only to help correct his grammar, that it wasn't generative. I'm very skeptical that he's telling the truth, but he also told me he is on academic probation and his visa is at risk. After consideration, I would rather he takes advantage of me than I ruin his chances to stay in this country and finish his degree. It feels extreme to play God like that. It's hard on my ego to go easy on him, but I genuinely think it's the right thing to do.

But before showing kindness to others, Denial argued for showing kindness to ourselves, namely through self-care. Of course, it's difficult to speak about this topic without falling into cliches, but she reminded me of Abraham Joshua Heschel's book about the Sabbath. In it, he argues that the Sabbath doesn't exist so you can work better (by getting more rest). Instead, he argues that "the weekdays are for the sake of the Sabbath." He goes on to write that "Labor is a craft, but perfect rest is an art." Not only is that beautiful, but I know firsthand how hard it is to rest well. I've had to set hard cutoff times so I won't work for the rest of the day, otherwise I just work myself to death (for very little pay). While in grad school I used to answer emails late into the night, but lately I have been only checking during normal work hours. Chronological separation was the first concrete step I took toward work-life balance since graduating, and I probably need to take more steps. Later on in the book, she emphasized the importance of learning to say "no" by guarding your "yes", which reminded me of the time Byung Chul Han (in Burnout Society) referenced Nietzsche, who said that we can only yea-say after we have cultivated our ability to say "no" to things (stimuli, instincts, etc.). I'm glad Denial mentioned this in a book about Kindness which critics might attack for being "wishy washy" or "too gentle."

The book did contain its fair share of liberal political cliches, but at this point I'm no longer bothered by them. In fact, I thought that this point was interesting: the categories you don't think about (race, gender, sexuality, etc.) are the places where you're privileged, and the ones you do think about (in my case, political affiliation) are where you are at risk. This was an interesting shorthand, and when I thought about it, I was surprised how much I've been thinking about gender lately; this doesn't mean that I'm oppressed in that way, but rather that I'm more aware of it generally.

I do think she went a bit far in some places, such as the two places where she casually mentioned that higher education should be achievable for everyone. I would push back against this in two ways: first off, no, we probably need to have more stringent standards to let people in, not less; secondly, I just started Ivan Ilich's "Deschooling Society", wherein he argues from an anarcho-leftist perspective that our tendency to over-institutionalize is harmful to the poor, not helpful. I fear that the well-meaning leftist cliches about equality have oversimplified Denial's view of pedagogy; even though both of us are educators at the university level, I don't think that everyone needs a college education. I would love to give those who are here the best education I can, but I generally think way too many people go to college, especially those who don't know what they want to do or who aren't properly prepared. Both of them are problematic for teachers, since the former aren't motivated to do the work (and thus make our lives hell), and the latter may be motivated but often lack the practical/intellectual/physical aptitude to achieve a degree.

This isn't to say I'm ableist; in fact, I'm much more concerned about that -ism than most of the rest she mentions. One idea she gave me which I may use is to expand my idea of what accommodations I can provide; so, instead of waiting for emails about specific students, I can do my best to reach out and see if there's small ways I can make things easier. I already have tried to do this in the past by having both audiobook and visual versions of my texts whenever possible, but I can definitely improve.

I don't however agree with Denial's approach to syllabi; she argues we need to make it conversational, that having bulleted items is cold and legalistic. Frankly, those documents aren't important enough to spend that long on, and she spends far too long on them. They should be a highlight reel of the most important policies, and nothing more. Sure, it would be good to quiz students on which part(s) give them anxiety or reassure them, but making it wordier isn't going to make students like you more. I know teachers who have very strict syllabi and their students love them. I don't think that's the hill to die on.

In contrast, I have recently found a hill I would fight for, though not die for: I have shifted away from giving in-line feedback to dictating paragraph format feedback. In the past, I would have students read my feedback in conferences, and when they'd finish, they'd sit there flatly, not sure which of the yellow blurbs was important. This last round I did, I dictated several full paragraphs (in the same amount of time, probably faster), which every time gave them something to talk about. As soon as they finished reading, they launched into a response, and it made our conversations so much more lively! What this last round of conferences reminded me, however, was that I for some reason had been leaving all this feedback but never telling them to look at it. In the conferences I showed them where it was, but I never once told them in class that they should be looking at it. I would give them low grades and tell them to look at previous feedback, but how were they to know to look there in the first place? Maybe that sounds stupid of me, but my process definitely had a flaw in it.

Speaking of feedback, I'm tempted to try asking my students to grade their own work, but I'm hesitant due to my own experiences. The impetus is both tempting and understandable: we want to put students in the driver's seat, to give them agency, but unless we're very careful how we approach it, self-grading feels manipulative. The only time I've ever had teachers do it to me, I felt extremely uncomfortable; rather than being honest, I felt like I had to guess what they thought I deserved. It quickly turns into a mind game, rather than a way for students to take control. Sure, it definitely forced me to think about my work, but it was deeply uncomfortable, and not in a very productive way.

Speaking of uncomfortable, I also was on the fence about the idea of un-papers. This would be something easier for History classes, but in my English classes we have a certain number of words that students must write throughout the semester, so it makes avoiding papers quite difficult. I remember being in a couple classes in my undergrad where the teacher gave us "creative" project prompts, and one of them I loved, the other one not so much. The one I loved allowed me to produce a loosely-bound book which included haiku written on birch bark stripped from the trees on campus. The teacher liked it so much she kept it to show future students. The ones I didn't like as much suffered because the standards were vague. The teacher purposefully left the standards vague to allow us creative freedom, but for more linear-minded students like myself (at that time, not now lol), it was harder on me than just writing a paper.

Ultimately, I think the best point the author made (other than the titular thesis) was arguing for teaching skills rather than specific content. The way I try to do this in my own classes is that my lectures try to focus on big-picture applications (outside of school), and my grading encourages growth rather than perfection. I don't need students to check every box the first try, I'm much more interested in my students learning patience, clarity, and revision skills, two of which I never learned in undergrad. It's funny: I'm tempted to think that this book and my teaching philosophy both focus quite a bit on correcting for the mistakes of my/our teachers, which feels analogous to the way my generation is trying to correct for our parents' mistakes with our own kids. Thus the cycle continues...

[Jeanne · Rating 4 out of 5]

Reflect for a minute on your history of learning. If you are typical, you have probably had professors set up adversarial relationships (and positive ones), obsess about cheating, and respond as though there must be winners and losers, but that we cannot have both faculty and students win. Catherine Denial asks, instead, that we respond with kindness. But, she notes,

people confuse kindness with the idea of “being nice”—of being agreeable in all circumstances, of masking disagreement, of refusing to ripple the waters in our institutions and professions. But real kindness is not about individual pleasantries or letting injustices pass. Niceness, in contrast to compassion, is often unkind, a Band-Aid we’re urged to plaster over deep fissures in our institutions, wielded as a weapon instead of as a balm. (pp. 1-2).

Denial's kindness is compassionate and just rather than merely nice. "Kindness is real, it’s honest, and it demands integrity. It’s unkind to mislead people or lie to them, for example, meaning that kindness necessitates tough conversations. Boundaries, too, are a form of kindness, a way of respecting and honoring our physical and mental energy so that we do not deplete ourselves in the service of others" (p. 2). Such kindness considers accessibility and equity in all corners of academic life, recognizes the value of self-care, examines the language in syllabi, advocates for greater transparency in assignments, and uses universal design for learning in every corner of the teaching environment.

As someone who has read a fair amount on teaching college students, I was not surprised by much in Denial's book; nonetheless, what made Pedagogy of Kindness an interesting read is the greater umbrella (compassion) that it set out encompassing and explaining all these other ideas.

I read Pedagogy of Kindness with my university's CFE.

[One Kind Act a Day · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Academia is not, by and large, a kind place." From the second sentence in this book Dr. Denial comes out swinging, not backing down from creating waves. But that is the purpose of her book, to create a change in higher education. She does so in a very kind way, not just pointing out where academia fails its students and staff, but by giving actionable examples that professors and universities can incorporate into their pedagogy.

At times I found myself wondering, "Well yeah, that might work in a history class, but what about the hard sciences, like Chemistry? I'm not sure that would apply." Only to turn the page and see a great example of how these principles apply across disciplines, yes, even in the "hard sciences". Dr. Denial shares her journey with great candor which helps the reader to realize they can take this journey as well. As I read, I kept wishing I had had a professor who used the principles Dr. Denial teaches.

I've read several books on kindness in higher education, and this one is what all the others aspire to be. If you're wanting to be kinder in your teaching, or if you are creating a course to help teachers be kinder, use this book as your foundation.

[Mackenzie Pike · Rating 2 out of 5]

Meh. Few topics arose that I hadn’t already considered, and it didn’t dive into true concepts of niceness vs. kindness in any helpful way. Mostly woke and doesn’t account for the concept that different universities and populations will inherently necessitate different approaches to concepts such as attendance policies and believing our students. Also would’ve appreciated more discussion about how these concepts and practices offered are inherently more labor-intensive and how that negotiation is prominent for non-full time or tenured faculty. Generally too specific and broad simultaneously, and not what I’m looking for in a pedagogy book at this time in my career.

[Mary Jackson · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book has some interesting ideas but for those of us with heavy teaching loads—5 or 6 classes per semester versus her six per academic year—I found so many of her suggestions daunting. She speaks a lot about accommodations and yet the legal aspects surrounding this topic are mind numbing! (One of the reasons I want to retire early!)

Maybe this is a book for beginning educators and while I do like some of her suggestions I am struggling to to find ways to use them at my institution.

[Rebecca · Rating 4 out of 5]

There are a lot of great, inspiring, and controversial ideas in this book. I particularly liked the way Denial called out higher education for the complete lack of training given to most college/university instructors and professors. Some good takeaways and things to think about when it comes to teaching in a more thoughtful and kind manner (both for yourself and your students) and a reminder that kind and nice are not synonyms.

[Liz · Rating 5 out of 5]

"We deserve an academy that is kind." Denial offers entry and expansion points for higher education faculty to center kindness. While I like to think that I center kindness in my work (more so for my students than myself), Denial presents so many ways for me to continue on this journey. While the audience is higher education folks, I'd definitely encourage secondary folks to give it a read too!

[Lorraine · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is an important book.

Denial clearly articulates the ways in which academia is unkind--the often toxic and competitive nature of the professoriate at many institutions, the increasing demands on faculty time, the lack of preparation many (most?) people are given before they're thrust into the classroom, and so on--and then advocates that we practice kindness to ourselves, our students, and our colleagues as a response.

I appreciate that this book is practical rather than simply inspirational like many books about teaching. Those books are important, too, but for those of us who see teaching as a vocation, a calling, focusing too hard on that facet of the profession can lead to too much emotional labor and too few boundaries. Instead, Denial focuses on specific personal, professional, and classroom strategies to implement that foreground kindness.

I know I will be taking away many of these to use in my academic life.

[Tina Romanelli · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book and the reading discussion group are some of the major reasons I loved my job at NOVA last semester and was so grateful to be offered a full time job here. Teachers are humans, and if you want them to be kind, you need to be kind to them and encourage them to be kind to themselves. Teachers who are treated well are more likely to remember that students are human too.

[Ann Perreau · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a great read for all college professors! It is focused on becoming a welcoming and approachable instructor and offers great suggestions for designing and implementing creative ideas in the classroom (online and in person).

[Sue · Rating 5 out of 5]

A very interesting book that provides guidance on how you can complete many of the ideas promoted.

[Ryan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Loved this book! Too many notes to share. Keeping this one on my shelf.

[Kailey Morand · Rating 5 out of 5]

Important and quick read for anybody who considers themself an educator

[Mary · Rating 3 out of 5]

I’m happy to say I’ve considered most of this. Directed at college profs with little knowledge of teaching the masses.

[Cara Putman]

A quick read with good general strategies for creating a welcoming space for students.

[Dawn Draus · Rating 3 out of 5]

Some good ideas.