My favorite teacher in graduate school was Austin Warren, an enormously learned man whose teaching style was very eccentric. Frequently he seemed to end up having lectured on something other than what he appeared to have begun the lecture on. It was necessary to be fully present§not simply hearing his lecture, but actively listening to it and thinking every minute. Austin Warren taught me how to try to think my own thoughts and, perhaps more important, he taught me how to listen and how to encourage others to listen when I address them.

The only way I have found to teach what I call philosophical grammar is through painstaking analyses of individual sentences. This means lengthy, tactful, and, I hope, patient questioning and listening. With patience, I find I can elicit discussion from various groups of students from widely different backgrounds. Sometimes, getting the students to notice and to make distinctions requires drastic means, and I am not above trying to startle, and even confound.

At this stage there are complaints of confusion and bewilderment. Most students nevertheless gain some skill and we begin to compare literary texts. The classes are most successful when what emerges from the grammatical details is a mirror of the larger concerns of the individual writers. While students invariably report frustration, they also report excitement, believing that they are being forced to think by being forced to listen in a new way.

Listening is a virtue that does not, I confess, come naturally to me: it requires a great effort on my part and includes sensing the tone or mood of the class. Often the success or failure of a class meeting depends on how accurately I have gauged the students' mood. I sometimes have to adjust or even abandon the day's lesson plan because of the direction the questions take. When this happens, far from losing ground, the class can make a surprising advance in understanding.

Directing research also demands listening, perhaps the most difficult kind of listening, because students, graduate or undergraduate, rarely begin their projects with perfect clarity. Listening to them, asking the right questions, and helping them shape their ideas is one of the most rewarding parts of my work. Dissertations that I have directed and which have since become books, I have lined up in a special place on the shelves in my office. I am almost as proud of them as I am of the pictures of my grandchildren.

Teachers are role models for their students. I try to present myself to them as someone who enjoys doing what he's doing, who loves learning, who loves teaching, who is compassionate, and who listens.