Old Dog, New Tricks: How Online Teaching Rekindled My Passion for Teaching

Image of senior dogs, one English Bulldog and one lab mix.

Old Dog, New Tricks: How Online Teaching Rekindled My Passion for Teaching

When I decided to step back into online teaching after nearly a decade, I thought the biggest draw would be the freedom to work from anywhere—maybe even while spending time with family in Alabama. The idea of crafting lessons with location flexibility sounded like the kind of balance I needed in this season of my life. But as it turns out, the freedom to work from anywhere is just the icing on the cake. What I didn’t expect was how much I’d reconnect with the heart of teaching itself.

It turns out, all of my classes are online this semester. My institution uses Blackboard Ultra—a platform that’s more advanced than the clunky tools I remember from my last online teaching experience. Back then, fostering real connection in an asynchronous class felt nearly impossible. I remember the difficulty setting up video calls and lectures, for example. This time around, though, something clicked. I’m not just uploading assignments and grading papers. I’m building relationships, one announcement, one message, one shared story at a time.

Finding Connection in an Self-Paced World

Online classes can roll along on autopilot if you let them. I could easily pop in, grade assignments, and call it a day. But that’s not how I’m wired. I need to feel connected—to know there are real people on the other side of the screen. I’m also a texter—I have been since the advent of smartphones. Messaging appeals to my introverted nature, the one that has an aversion to phone calls. This same preference drives how I approach my students. So, I make it a point to check in regularly with my students. I send out announcements throughout the week, not just about deadlines and assignments, but to share something about myself and encourage them to do the same—something that reminds us we’re people, that we’re travelers together, not just consumers of virtual learning, detached and mechanical.

One week, I sent out a simple message: “Time to check in. How’s the course going? How are you doing?” I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the responses both caught me off guard and moved me. Students didn’t just give me feedback on the course—they shared snippets of their lives, their challenges, their small victories. A few thanked me for asking about their well-being, calling it “refreshing” to have that kind of interaction in an online class. That’s when it hit me: this wasn’t just about teaching content. It was about building community. (They also mentioned how they struggled with balancing all of their responsibilities with their coursework. That’s coming up in my next post.)

Bruno, Bulldogs, and Building Community

Stories have always been the glue that holds people together. I started sharing little anecdotes about my life—like tales of my dog, Bruno, and our recent adventure adopting an older bulldog, a lady named Marley. I didn’t think much of it at first, but the response was immediate and heartfelt. Students shared stories about their own pets, adding humor and warmth to our digital space. Today, I even shared a picture of “the pack,” and the flood of responses made me realize that even in a virtual space, we could connect as people.

Image of two English Bulldogs and a lab mix. — Our Pack: Bruno, Caroline, and “new” Old Dog, Marley

Adapting While in Progress: Revising the Syllabus Mid-Course

Not everything has been smooth sailing. One of my classes didn’t feel as rigorous as it should’ve been. The material wasn’t pushing students to engage deeply, and I could tell it wasn’t encouraging them to read as much as they needed to. So, two weeks into the course, I did something I’ve never done before: I updated the syllabus mid-stream, knowing it could disrupt the flow of the class.

I rebalanced the points on existing assignments and added lightweight quizzes as reading guides. It took me about three days to get everything in order, and then I let the students know what I’d done and, more importantly, why I’d done it. Transparency matters. For a while, no one complained, and I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking the transition had been smooth. But today, I received my first piece of critical feedback.

One student reached out, expressing how overwhelmed he felt juggling work and two classes. Most of my master’s students work in local districts, and I could sense the stress in his message. I assured him that the quizzes were designed as reading guides—more of a nudge than a test—and if he read the chapters, he should be able to complete them as he went along. To ease the pressure, I removed the time limit on the quizzes. It may not have solved all his concerns, but it was important to me that he knew I was attentive to his feedback.

Why insist on these low-stakes checks of reading? Because they signal that the reading matters—not just to pass the class but to engage with the material meaningfully. It’s a gentle reminder that what’s in those chapters is essential, and I want them to take it seriously.

Grading as a Conversation, Not a Chore

I’ll be honest here. I say “reconnect,” but what I really mean is connect for the first time. I went into the teaching profession in 1985 because it was convenient. I had a challenging marriage, a young daughter, and was homesick and lonely. I just didn’t have the time to do the homework to pursue a career in law or chemistry—which I discovered I really liked in college. I went into the field whose subjects of English and history were easiest for me: education. It has sometimes felt as though I have been in a profession not of my freewill choosing for almost 40 years. This made me hold a resentment toward it. I resisted and rebelled against national standards, for example, through curriculum theory writing, taking a cue from other scholars in the field. I had missed—because it never appealed to me in the first place—the only valid reason to become a teacher: students.

Image of Ugena Whitlock working on Apple computer with two English Bulldogs and a lab mix. — Me, working on my online classes with the Pack in place

As I think about it, I love nothing more than being a student, and I have felt respect and fondness for teachers who truly cared about me. Yet I was not this kind of teacher to my students. This is not to say that I mistreated them—quite the contrary. I was the fun teacher for most of my career—the easy grader and the one who drew a little outside of the box. When I arrived at my current institution, a recurring theme that people actually spoke out loud was putting students first. I envied this and knew that I seemed a few steps removed from students. Now, as a non-administrative faculty member, I have a unique opportunity for a second chance—not to reconnect with a passion, but to form one. I find great hope in this—not just for second chances to find something I feel something for, but for redemption itself. This online platform of words—and blessed words are my seeds of connection—allow me to connect to my students and develop a relationship with them and teaching that, for me, is new.

Embracing AI and Lifelong Learning

Another unexpected twist in this journey has been my dive into AI. I’m realistic about it. I use AI tools, and I know my students will too—as will their own students one day. Instead of policing its use, I’m teaching them how to use AI as a tool, not a crutch. It’s part of preparing them for the future, and honestly, it’s been fascinating to explore.

Image representing AI as a learning tool. — AI As Learning Tool

I’ve been attending workshops, like the one put on by USC Upstate’s CAIFS last week, and I’m signing up for mini-courses through ACUE. There’s something deeply satisfying about being an “old dog” excited to learn new tricks. It’s reminded me that teaching isn’t just about imparting knowledge—it’s about staying curious, staying engaged, and always being willing to grow.

The Puzzle of Online Teaching: Finding My Niche

Part of what’s made this experience so fulfilling is how it taps into different parts of who I am. I’m an introverted Virgo and a bit of a gadget enthusiast. Online teaching feels like solving a puzzle, finding new ways to innovate, communicate, and engage. I don’t often get so absorbed in something that I lose track of time and forget to eat, but when I’m working on my classes, that’s exactly what happens. It’s a sign that I’m not just doing this because I have to—I’m doing it because I really, really enjoy it.

I’m drawing from my background in curriculum design and integrating best practices for online learning. One of the challenges I’ve set for myself is to create personalized video lectures for all my classes. Right now, I’m using pre-loaded videos from previous iterations of the courses, but I’m excited to make them my own—to bring more of my voice and personality into the mix.

Conclusion: More Than I Expected

When I first agreed to teach online again, I thought it would be a practical move—a way to work from anywhere and stay connected to my family in Alabama. But it’s become so much more than that. It’s sparked a passion for teaching, blending the challenge of engaging pedagogy with the joy of connecting with students. Serendipitously, it has opened up new avenues for growth and exploration.

Online teaching isn’t just a job for me now. It’s a space where I’m learning, innovating, and building community in ways I never expected. And as it turns out, this “old dog” has plenty of new tricks left to learn—and plenty of stories left to share from the front porch, whether real or virtual.

Being Human When AI Works Almost As Well, Sort Of

Image of a handmade double wedding band quilt featuring interlocking circular patterns in vibrant colors on a light background. The intricate stitching and carefully pieced fabric showcase the craftsmanship and artistry of traditional quilting.

Bruno displaying AI (Actual Intelligence)

I added a page to my Homepage to explain my thoughts and personal policy regarding Artificial Intelligence. Here it is as a post.

Within 20 years (perhaps 10, probably 5), this message will no longer be necessary. Within a generation, content producers and consumers will have figured out the ethics of using Artificial Intelligence to generate all kinds of content–from graphic designs, to music, to work documents for all professions, to classroom coursework, to, yes, blogs. We will have found the balance between using AI as a tool to enhance our work and relying on it to do the work for us. We will have figured out the survival–celebration, value–of artists, academics, and writers (human anythings) so that we will not have been replaced, which is a current concern. With a nod to Faulkner, I believe when it comes to AI, we will do more than survive. We will prevail, but we are not there yet.

My institution has three options regarding AI usage in the classroom that we faculty can incorporate into our syllabi–“Generative Artificial Intelligence Use Prohibited,” “Generative Artificial Intelligence Use Allowed with Attribution,” and “Generative Artificial Intelligence Use Encouraged with Attribution.” That pretty well captures the options for use in most settings. We can prohibit the use of AI, allow its use with care, and/or encourage its use. I would argue that the first option is not only unrealistic, but it would also put users at a disadvantage. Option 3 sounds to me like it could turn into a party–a free for all for beginners and professionals alike without boundaries and guardrails. Option 2 is a reasonable place to start, as it insists upon using the creative brain first and primarily, allowing us to form a relationship with AI–which we will do, one way or another, but that is another story–where it is the tool, not us. We humans must stay in the game, after all. (To the people reading this in 20 years–I know you are laughing and shaking your heads. Enjoy!)

I think of AI like quilts. You can purchase pre-printed quilting material at Walmart or any fabric store. To make your quilt, you only have to put stuffing (called batting or wading) between the printed side and the backing, and outline the printed design with thread, and viola, a quilt. I have one or two of these that my sweet mother and aunt have given me. They are treasures, but they are nothing like the quilts they used to make before their hands got tired and bent from arthritis. Designs were intricate and colorful, made from generations old patterns. Some patterns were made with hundreds of small pieces of cloth, which were stitched painstakingly, creating a “double wedding band,” for example, on the colorful front and plain-cloth backing. These quilts are heirlooms, works of art that are lovingly protected and stored to preserve their beauty. The difference between AI generated content and human generated content is like the difference between the printed quilt and the pieced quilt.

Image of a quilt ladder displayed in a cozy room. The ladder holds a collection of colorful handmade quilts, including a double wedding band quilt, a basket design, and others with intricate patterns. A crocheted striped blanket hangs alongside them. At the top of the ladder is a plush white owl. A framed Cape Cod map hangs on the wall, with a wooden chair and a tote bag visible in the foreground. — A collection of family heirlooms! Quilt ladder displaying several hand pieced quilts.

But, you may ask, how is that a valid comparison, since AI content is sometimes indistinguishable, often superior to human generated content? The attributes of beauty, of quality—even, maybe especially, messiness and flaws—are the human elements. Our challenge is not to attempt to catch up to what AI can do–we can’t. Our challenge is what the poets have always sought to evoke in humanity. It reminds me of what Ashley Wilkes tried in vain to express to Scarlett O’Hara: “I do mind, very much, the loss of the beauty of the old life I loved. Scarlett, before the war, life was beautiful. There was a glamour to it, a perfection and a completeness and a symmetry to it like Grecian art.” Ashley, though, mourned for the lost grace and perfection (that never existed), and in so doing, sadly missed the point…and the opportunity. Human completeness and symmetry are not going anywhere; we just have to be intentional about keeping them—us—alive. Aliveness is the pearl that makes Artificial Intelligence artificial.

At the beginning of my classes, my students and I talk about the ethics of using AI for course assignments. We look at the University’s options, above, and I talk to them about Google’s standards for evaluating web content (Google will not publish just anything), the E-E-A-T Guidelines. E-E-A-T stands for expertise, experience, authoritativeness, and trust. Google holds content to this standard in part to screen content that is generated to “manipulate search rankings.” Google uses its automated ranking system to focus on “high-quality, reliable, people-first content” https://developers.google.com/search/docs/fundamentals/creating-helpful-content. I’m sure that me and my little blog and my academic writing were not what Google had in mind when it developed its regulatory content standards. My blog has 4 readers, one of whom is my sweet Mother, and the academic writing has even fewer. But just as AI reaches broadly toward various fields and modalities, so too must the ethics that guide its use.

I try to persuade my students that I would rather read work full of their own emotions, originality, and creativity than a perfectly crafted AI-generated response paper. I’m not naive—AI is too easy to use—so we talk a lot about treating it more as an editor than a creator. I encourage them to maintain and strengthen their sense of creator-ness while learning to use AI responsibly as a tool to enhance their ideas, not replace them. I want them to see themselves as authors of their own thoughts, capable of crafting their work like a beautiful, hand-pieced quilt, rather than relying on AI to assemble their ideas for them.

Image of a handmade quilt with a crimson and white Alabama football theme. The quilt features appliqué designs of football helmets, footballs, the letter 'A,' and elephants in alternating squares. Each design is outlined with visible stitching, and the quilt is bordered with a crimson edge, showcasing school spirit and craftsmanship. — Lovingly made Alabama Quilt from my Mother

Some academics will prohibit the use of AI in their courses, focusing on catching students who use it. These are likely the same individuals who hold their peers to a higher standard when it comes to leveraging AI. Over time, these attitudes will adapt. For instance, I was encouraged to find that a Google search for ‘Scholars and academics who use AI’ yielded results emphasizing the responsible and ethical use of AI in research and writing. Just today, Tom’s Guide published an article, ’12 Days of OpenAI,’ reporting on OpenAI’s release of the new Pro More subscription, designed for advanced scientific research and complex mathematical problem-solving, at a cost of $200 per month. I’m old enough to remember when personal calculators were banned in math classrooms out of fear that students wouldn’t learn to calculate on their own. Eventually, we realized that without understanding the underlying concepts, a calculator wouldn’t help a student much. Similarly, while AI has historically struggled with math, it’s improving—and for $200 a month, you can see its progress. Advances like Pro More will inevitably become irresistible and indispensable for researchers. I suspect that as AI continues to evolve, the ethics of its use in academia will become increasingly situational.

For my blog and academic writing, I drafted a disclosure to include with my work. The following is the only AI-generated content in the post. ChatGPT spit this first one out in less than 10 seconds. It’s well-organized and pretty comprehensive, and with my found time I folded a load of laundry. Scroll to the bottom to see the human-created, much simpler finished product:

Personal Ethical Policy for AI Use in Writing

As a writer, I recognize the value of artificial intelligence as a tool to enhance creativity, efficiency, and quality in my work. To maintain integrity and uphold ethical standards, I commit to the following principles:

Transparency:

I will disclose the use of AI tools in the creation of any content where its contribution significantly impacts the final product, especially in professional, academic, or published works.

Originality:

I will ensure that the core ideas, voice, and creative expression in my writing remain my own. AI will serve as an aid, not a replacement, for my unique perspective and narrative.

Accuracy and Verification:

I will verify any AI-generated information, ideas, or suggestions to ensure factual accuracy, avoid misinformation, and maintain credibility in my writing.

Plagiarism Prevention:

I will not use AI to produce content that could be considered plagiarized or misrepresented as entirely original. Proper attribution will be given where AI outputs are directly used.

Mindful Usage:

I will use AI tools for appropriate tasks such as brainstorming, editing, and administrative writing assistance, while refraining from over-reliance that could diminish my skill development or creative input.

Respect for Context:

In collaborative projects, I will adhere to agreed-upon policies regarding AI use and respect any ethical or legal guidelines specific to the context of my work.

Commitment to Growth:

I will continuously evaluate the role of AI in my writing practice, striving to balance innovation with authenticity, and learning how to responsibly adapt to emerging technologies.

That’s way too much information, and notice how Chat GPT numbered each item in its own list #1, a fitting reminder that although AI organizes information with precision at light speed, creativity and meaning-making is and will continue to be a human enterprise.

AI went on to ask me: “Would you like adjustments to tailor this for a specific audience, such as professional peers, readers, or students?” I declined the offer, and here is my human version:

The work presented here is original to me. I have used AI tools such as ChatGPT sparingly and ethically for tasks such as identifying trending topics, proofreading, suggesting key words for search engine optimization. I have carefully reviewed AI-generated suggestions to ensure they align with my authentic voice and unique style, thereby preserving the creativity and integrity of the work and myself.

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Personal Ethical Policy for AI Use in Writing

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