Being a university teacher in an architecture department is something like being a lead character in one of those horror films, like The Great Schizoid Man or The Being with Many Faces. The role is filled with many dilemmas, conflicts, and contradictions pulling you in many directions at once.

The most recurring dilemma is reconciling the place of a professional school (and of architecture) in a great research institution where scholarship is clearly understood and valued, while professional expertise often seems somewhat less so. At many universities, and particularly at Berkeley, this dichotomy has resulted in a dramatic change in the nature of the architecture faculty. When I began teaching over two decades ago, most of my colleagues were architects whose creative endeavor was making buildings. Now architects are a minority, and most of the faculty are academicians with research interest in building methods, building science, or the history of the environment. This change has created two special responsibilities for me: to be a bridge for students between the theoretical and the professional, and to be continuously mindful that architecture and environmental design are ever-increasing domains that must not be narrowly defined or circumscribed by their traditions.

Design is an artful pursuit that can be self-referential. But architecture is a public art that uses resources—human, natural, and economic—and therefore must be responsive to those who inhabit it, not just those who create it. It is important, therefore, for me as a teacher to impart a sense of responsibility and the understanding that while an architect might imagine the unbelievable, it is incumbent upon the dreamer to make a reality. Skill and craft are as important as art and intellect; there is a dichotomy between the practical and the theoretical.

There is also the dilemma of balancing knowledge and understanding, a challenge faced by all faculty regardless of their field. Knowledge changes rapidly and dramatically, and while it is important to keep current, it is just as important to understand how to find, create, and apply knowledge as it is to know it. Values and judgment are the critical ingredients, and teaching is less a matter of professing than it is finding means for students to discover their own virtuousness.

This is a particular challenge in architecture since so much of one's confidence in decision-making comes from reflectiveness, introspection, and experimentation. Making mistakes is an expected and necessary, but often painful, component, and creating an atmosphere in which it is safe and comfortable to err is important. On the other hand, architecture as a professional endeavor cannot be done in isolation. Collaboration is ubiquitous and students need to begin this team-building while in school. My classes therefore tend to be a combination of collective and individual efforts, but never are students permitted to conceal their work from their colleagues during discussions and criticism sessions. This sharpens their powers of observation and critical abilities, helping them to formulate a legitimate opinion, articulate and defend it, and then use it in the evolution of a design.

Since I am continually confronted by these dilemmas and contradictions, my teaching compels my students to address them as well. They learn by reconciling seemingly conflicting circumstances: conflicts of ideas, of scales, of values. By challenging them to make choices and to articulate their priorities, I hope to help them become confident in their decision-making and ultimately in the efficacy of their work. In the process I am part coach, cheerleader, instructor, listener, and orchestrater—The Schizoid Man.