I hesitate to view my assemblage of thoughts about my role as a teacher as constituting a "philosophy of education," but twenty-five years at Berkeley does lead to a coherent set of values about this enterprise.

In the teaching of natural science, it becomes apparent that the dazzling pace of contemporary research leads to a daily supply of new facts. We are in a phase of great exuberance about the things we can learn about how we work. How does one teach courses in which some of the substance is so rapidly remolded? It is easy to walk into a lecture hall and supply the latest collection of data. But, however intrigued I am about the new pieces of the puzzle, I did not become interested in my area because someone exposed me to a "memory dump" of facts and figures. My interests were kindled by teachers who told tales, and gave each story a distinctive style.

In education, there must be excitement, intrigue, vitality, and a sprinkle of magic. Part of what I do best is weaving through mountains of findings to find the story that promotes an understanding of the brain—the area I know best. My goal is to accomplish this task with clarity, organization, and exuberance. I want my students to walk out of class feeling that they not only collected facts and ideas but also sensed the excitement of discovery.

In teaching and grading, I am guided by several notions. First, students are varied—some will walk away from class singing, and some take the same path dropping tears. It is important to be responsive to student feelings but not to be overwhelmed. Second, it is important to use lessons from our own development to guide our role as teachers—to recollect our own hesitancies or brashness in walking into a professor's office or doing poorly on an exam. For many of us, it was the special things that happened with teachers that shaped our paths to success. My aim is to offer the best that I was served.

Another aspect of teaching that concerns me is evaluation. Grading is the focus for considerable confusion for instructors and students. It is important to be explicit to students. For years, I have used an absolute standard; I do not grade "on a curve." I provide students with a collection of questions, usually essay, and tell them that the exam will come from these questions. My impression is that students' achievements under this system are much higher than under others. Indeed, the complaint of students is that they can't help studying—the deal is too good! Finally, I try to convey the sentiment that although I value achievement, I do not view grades as statements of human worth.