"Facts just aren't that important," says Jasper Rine, professor of genetics in the Department of Molecular and Cell Biology. He recognizes the blasphemous nature of his view, but points out that approximately 300 new papers are published in just his research field every week. "Faced with growth in biological knowledge of this magnitude, I have wrestled with how one is to teach modern and useful biology."
Rine succeeds in this daunting task. Says a former student, "He was concise, organized, entertaining, and perhaps most important, friendly. Furthermore, his midterm was a masterpiece, every question was clear and understandable and they were each brain-teasers--they probed beyond surface understanding and required us to apply concepts in new ways."
Colleagues praise him for his lecturing style. His research seminars, says one, "have become canonized by the eponymous term, a 'Rinestone' lecture, which is used by our students to refer to a seminar that is a gem. However, in Jasper's case, a Rinestone is a valuable gem." "He taught us to think like geneticists," says a former student.
A fellow of the American Academy of Microbiology and former director of the Human Genome Center at Lawrence Berkeley Labs, Rine joined the Berkeley faculty in 1982. Rine received his BS from the State University of New York at Albany in 1975 and his PhD in molecular genetics from the University of Oregon in 1979.
Statement Of Teaching Philosophy
My goals in teaching have changed considerably, in three remarkably discrete stages, during my tenure at Berkeley. I am now convinced that I have a mature vision of what I want to accomplish. Of course, at each of the two previous stages I was equally convinced that I had mature visions, which I now recognize were both woefully immature. Thus, were I humble and honest, I would label what follows as a teaching vision under development, reserving the prerogative to declare it inadequate as soon as I find something better.
My present view about teaching has evolved from a difficulty I encounter in my research programs, and is but one example of the interaction between my teaching and research. Specifically, any "key word" search of the literature reveals approximately 300 new published papers per week in my research field. Clearly neither I nor anyone else reads 300 papers a week, so how is it that we can actually keep up with our fields? The solution to this problem would clearly be relevant to solving the central dilemma of teaching a rapidly progressing field.
Although I have unlimited respect for facts, and delight in their discovery and appreciation, I have come to the obvious yet almost blasphemous view that, with respect to teaching, the facts just aren't that important. Otherwise the weight of a truly modern biology text would be staggering. Actually, I suspect most professors in biology have come to this view but we do everything we can to avoid admitting it.
Finally, I believe a key component of teaching effectively is to let the students recognize that we are having fun. The Berkeley faculty as a whole are extremely hard working and are burdened, because of their success, with countless other local, national, and international responsibilities. Thus many of us run about with a harried demeanor, despite the fact that we fundamentally love our jobs. If the students never see that we love our jobs, I worry that our fields will be starved of an influx of fresh talent, and will eventually die. Thus, when in front of a large lecture class, I shed my self-consciousness, and throw as much energy, passion, and drama into the exchange as I can.
Is it effective? On the whole, I'd say yes. Sleeping students learn little, and, even in my 8:00 a.m. classes, no one is asleep.