I was contacted this week by a professor in my old Philosophy department (where I spent many happy years as a PhD student and graduate teaching assistant), wanting to know how I made the move from philosophy into learning and teaching. That’s something I am always happy to talk about – I’m genuinely interested in how people can take experience and expertise in one area and use it in another.

In my case it happened something like this. I was teaching a lot of tutorials in level 1 philosophy and trying my best to find ways of getting more students to do more than sit passively while the few confident students dominated the conversation, or tutorials turned into mini lectures. A friend (now my husband) suggested that I start to look at learning and teaching events as a way of finding inspiration – and told me that the UofG learning and teaching conference would give me a nice, free lunch if nothing else. I attended the conference, saw a talk by a lecturer (Steve Draper) about Jigsaw Classrooms, and realised I’d found a model that I could use. So I contacted Steve and met with him, applied for and received a small grant from the HEA (as it was then), and spent the next year developing my model of Jigsaw Tutorials. I immersed myself in educational research, wrote papers, presented at conferences, and developed materials that others could adopt or adapt for their own teaching. In short, I became an expert in Jigsaw and realised that I wanted to work in learning and teaching. So when a part-time, short-term post was advertised in the Learning and Teaching Centre I was excited to apply, and over the moon when I got the job. A full-time post came up as a learning technologist and I was again successful, the Uni approved a fee waiver for me to begin a PhD in Education and the rest, as they say, is history. I was not sure how useful my experience would be to others wanting to make a similar move – but I was more than happy to share my success story.

Over a short phone call, however, it became obvious that she was not interested in my story, because she thought of what I’d done not as a positive move from a subject that I’d grown tired of into an area of research that interested me a lot more – and which I felt was important as it made a practical difference – but as a downwards move by a failed researcher. It’s always lovely to get an insight into how others see you. She told me of a colleague who she was meeting later that day who, in her words, had ‘come to the end of the line’ in philosophy after a series of short-term contracts, and who she was going to suggest move into learning and teaching – hence her enquiry to me.

I gave some advice. I said that if a colleague was genuinely interested in making the transition from disciplinary research into the scholarship of teaching and learning then there were communities that I could introduce them to, and colleagues who had also made the move who could help them to make the move. I said that it was not easy, that it was a career path with at least as much importance as disciplinary research, and that SoTL was as rigorous as any other subject. But she was not really listening. In her mind I was a loser, I had failed at Philosophy so I’d gone off to work in a dead-end service job with a lot of other losers, and she wanted to know how her loser colleague might scrape a meaningless existence with us.

I know, on one level, that research is more highly thought of than teaching, I know that I work at a research-intensive university, so maybe this should not have been a surprise. But it was.