I have been formally teaching writing and communication skills on and off since 1995. As of this writing (2025), I have taught in ten Australian universities, pseudo-universities (that offer degrees), or schools where all students are university students, plus a several more of the same in China. [ Details ].
From teaching in such schools, I learned how not to do it. I should first acknowledge that I had a few excellent colleagues. Yet at most schools, I often disagreed and even argued with other teachers. Most don’t care. They just want to collect the salary and do as little as possible. Some were dogmatic conformity teachers, demanding rigid adherence to superficial forms without understanding their purpose. Others were outright idiots who didn’t listen, who didn’t know what they were talking about, and who misled students. A few were all of the above at once. I reject all of that.
The most enlightening period started with me being reprimanded for explaining clearly. Students found a certain module very unclear and unhelpful. I wrote something to clarify, which students enthusiastically appreciated. The school’s interpretation was that by explaining to the best of my ability, I was criticising previous teachers and so bringing the school into disrepute. Managers tried to stop me, then again when I prioritised helping students during an idiotic non-teaching fortnight imposed without notice early in the term. Managers really expected teachers to abandon students during that critical period. Across the whole institution of 11,000 students, I was the only teacher who didn’t.
My general point is that students never have any idea of how incompetently schools are often run. Managers set policies that prevent teachers from helping students, and then punish teachers trying to do so anyway. Such practices underscore my point that you shouldn’t even think about learning from such people or at such schools. They’ll waste your time and enrage you.
Students at the above school gave scathing feedback about incompetent teachers and the useless course. Managers dismissed that because much of it was aimed at them. Only I received positive reviews, in fact some students raved about me. I alone bothered to suggest ways the school could fix that course. Yet I was the only one let go. Soon after, the course collapsed from lack of enrolments, caused by its own inability to respond to student needs.
Maybe there’ll be a book in this one day when I can laugh about it.
At least teaching at one recent school gave me considerable current experience with online teaching. That’s worth something.
I like most university students, but I especially like students wanting to be writers. More correctly, many already are writers, they just need guidance to become professional. Some are variously shy, misunderstood, or eccentric. I’m good with different; such people often relate to me as well. I have been able to help them find their voices. I find that rewarding.
Furthermore, as of this writing, I have been an occasional English Language teacher for twenty-one years. (Too many schools to list, mostly in Shanghai: ask me if it’s important.) This surprisingly included a lot of writing classes. In many cases, those ESL students were extremely advanced, equivalent to (or better than) native speakers. Many were dedicated students having a particular need.
As an extension of my ESL teaching, I was an IELTS Examiner for nearly nine years.
Additionally, throughout my 30+-year career as a science writer and communicator, I often gave informal advice to junior and senior researchers, and to PhD students, on communication themes and writing in particular. They valued my input.
Articulate Writing 