[NOTE: This is a slightly edited version of the essay that I submitted with my application for promotion and tenure. Over the years I have come to call it my apologia, my formal defense...]

I am electing to write one comprehensive essay, rather than a collection of short introductory ones[to the sections of the application]. I feel fragmented enough, and I believe that many of my activities have significant overlap.

I keep on my bulletin board the essay that I wrote when I first applied to Loyola; here are some excerpts:

A church-related liberal arts college should be a place the teacher is trying to maintain the balance between the freedom of open intellectual inquiry and commitment to the historic Christian faith. The underlying theme of the classroom is to invite the student to join in this endeavor. The college can foster this environment in a number of ways:

1. Allow the creation of a climate where faith and learning are openly encouraged, with the overall goal of enabling the student to mature intellectually, spiritually, culturally and socially.

2. Affirm that scholarly pursuits are valid expressions of Christian commitment.

3. Allow for diversity of expression in life and culture.

4. Encourage tangible, practical expressions of social concerns via participation in ministries to the disadvantaged.

This environment should produce young people who, in addition to the mastery of a certain field of knowledge, will embody the ``liberal arts skills:''

1. The knowledge of oneself.

2. The promotion and use of critical judgment.
3. Effective oral and written communication.

4. The ability to work effectively with others.

5. Demonstrable analytical and problem solving abilities.

6. The establishment of meaningful values with a clear sense of purpose.

While my understanding and the specific methods and techniques that I have used to obtain these objectives have changed over my years at Loyola, I still find these thoughts as a touchstone - an ``altar of remembrance,'' if you will.

I view my task of teaching in two significant ways: an intellectual adventure, and cartographic craft. The goal of this task is to make myself unneeded: the adventure has become such a joy and the maps that I gave them are clear enough that it is now a pleasure to construct their own maps for their own adventures. Even if my students do not come to share my joy of learning, I endeavor to show them how they can increase their skills should the need arise (and it will).

I am on an adventure of lifelong learning and I invite my students to come join me for the trip. I enjoy what I do so much that I would rather share it - pass it along - than actually do it! This way I feel that I can have a larger influence on the computing milieu. I am continually learning and I encourage my students to watch and follow my example. In this regard, I tend to get high marks for enthusiasm in my student evaluations. I also often asked to mentor special courses. I was approached when the majors wanted to revive the course in compiler construction. Students who have ideas for independent studies seek me out. What they find and what they get, as often as not, is a co-learner. Together, we construct a course, a method of evaluation, and in weekly meetings we explore ideas.

I also share with my students the adventure that is my life. I have a son with epilepsy; in November, we note Epilepsy Awareness Month. I tell my class what to do should they be present when someone has a seizure. My other son has Down Syndrome. They know that. They know that he is adopted - and they are invited to come to my office to ask ``Why?'' My daughters, one of my sons and I dance in local ballet productions. They know that. I have even sought the advice of my students when I'm struggling with a parental issue.

My classes are aware of my adventures in the College. They know that the Handicapped Awareness Committee recommended building an accessible structure outside of the student center [which was finally done.]. They know my disappointment in my failed crusade in the College Council [now the Loyola Conference] to keep the core from being enlarged. They know of my success in the Council to protect their right to free expression in a private, religious school context: as an institution of ideas we need not fear words; as an institution of faith we need not fear power.

My craft is to provide structure, organization, and tools for my students to build their own houses of knowledge. I have been told that learning best happens in an environment where exploration is possible and unfortunate consequences can be ameliorated. So, I try to provide an environment where students can enjoy exploring ideas while being protected from the consequences of failure. This is difficult - especially in an environment where grades are assigned. My approach to the classroom is different (based on my conversations with my colleagues). I try not to stand between my students and the material, but rather function as a conductor of sorts. I invite my students to engage the material and me - to interact, wrestle, cajole, laugh, scream, learn, discover, experiment...And quite frankly, the students who sit back and wait for me to ``educate'' them, don't find my classes enjoyable and aren't thrilled with my persona.

This does cause some disorientation in my students. I am deliberately oblique and often droll. Sometimes they just want me to tell them what to do: I do my best not to tell, but rather direct, point and guide. I am a bit of a buffoon (I am the butt of most of my jokes) and often pretend to know less than I do- for what good is it for me to be an oracle? My students must learn to cope, adapt and defend. Most students sense this and respond positively and engage - others are not so positive and are put off. I am often criticized for not answering questions or merely reflecting (deflecting?) the question back to the class for discussion and dissection. But I believe that such an environment develops attitudes and habits that foster intellectual growth.

I continually to struggle to find a balance between my responsibility and those of my students for classroom outcomes. If I accept the maxim ``If the student hasn't learned, the teacher hasn't taught,'' then it logically follows that when my students perform well that I must get the credit for that, too. Then, in this lunatic reality, it seems that students only exist as passive, inanimate receptacles of my competence or incompetence. Taking such a responsibility for them denies their humanity. On the other hand, I can't just wander into my classes, babble for 50 minutes and expect an intellectual phoenix to rise from the ashes. My class notes are under constant revision; even when I have the luxury of doing the same course repeatedly, I look for newer, modern materials. I try to improve, based on my past experiences. I have asked seniors, the ``survivors'' of the sophomore course, if I should assign a variant of what has become known in the lore of the department as ``Gallagher's Buffer Program,'' to the current crop of sophomores. They answer yes, then tell me how much they hated it (and cursed me for it). So I assign it again and take my licks. At mid semester, I have just started to have the class evaluate me, using the standard college instrument. Then I report the results back to the class. I use this to get some idea of how each individual class feels, and it gives me a chance to make some mid-course corrections.

I give unusual exam questions for a technical discipline: ``Describe memory management on disks and in RAM. In what ways are the methods similar? different? Try to devise a single scheme that works in both environments but assuages the weaknesses of each.'' This question not only requires technical mastery, but an understanding of the subtleties of how similar ideas apply in different domains. The last part requires creativity and synthesis (and I grade that part gently); it is an opportunity to rub ideas together and see what sort of sparks fly. I have given full credit for answers to such questions, even when the answers are opposed. I use exams to try to discern why my students think what they think. In Computer Science 111, I use the word ``epistemology'' in an exam: there are issues of correctness, testability, that have to be confronted even in an elementary course. Moreover, these questions of trustworthiness of computing systems impact our daily lives: electronic fund transfers, credit cards, checking accounts, etc.

Usually, students show up for office hours with a bit of befuddling technical minutiae. Rather than just answer the detail, I ask ``what are you trying to do?'' The answer is related to the detail. I ask again. I get the same answer. Finally, I take the program listing out the person's hand, we both turn away from the workstation, and I ask ``what are you trying to do?'' A pause. When the person stops thinking about the how (the detail) and thinks about what (the goal) to accomplish, the detail explains itself. One of the most gratifying outcomes of this approach is when I see students helping students in the same fashion. The upper division students also tend to direct the lower division ones from behind, rather than just punch the right buttons. It also give the students confidence in new situations. Having coped with the unknown and mastered it, they find their new work experiences less intimidating.

Thus, my student evaluations tend to be bi-modal. Some really like what I do and how I do it; some really don't like it. Because of this bi-modality, the averages tend to be low and I have higher than usual percentages less than good. While I don't ignore the summary data, I do pay close attention to the written comments. With each new iteration of a course I re-read the previous evaluations to the class, both good and bad, and try to explain during the first meeting how I will try to mitigate the complaints while keeping the good. Sometimes, though, there is in each course, deep water that must be crossed.

I will take risks in my classes. I introduced a course in Advanced Operating Systems. I tried to run it as a seminar, as my advanced graduate courses were. I assigned papers to be read and discussed, and as a single semester project, the students attempted to port an existing operating system to a more sophisticated computer architecture. The students were not pleased with the seminar format, or the single project, and let me know it. If I offer this course again, it will be in the more traditional vein: lectures, homeworks, etc.

I have devised an interactive syllabus. This lets the students have some input and control over the weight of projects and exams, and their timing. We also discuss some of the course content; if there is a topic that everyone is eager to learn about, I make sure that it gets covered. For lower division courses, we negotiate over due dates of assignments. In all of my classes, we design the exams: as a group we determine topics and relative weights of questions. This makes sure that everybody studies the same material, and no one is an expert in a topic that I don't ask about. I also have a ``standard'' extra credit question: ``If there is something that isn't on the test, or you thought should be the test but isn't, you may devise one question in this area and answer it.'' What this question has evolved into is an opportunity for students to collect extra credit in a topic that hasn't been covered in class. Enterprising students will study an area on their own and try to impress me with their self-acquired knowledge. This is a clear win-win situation.

In general, I have taken an approach to the classroom that may evaluate better over the long run. For instance, I use a standard reference as a text in my major class for sophomores. Part of the content of the course is to learn to use it (and by osmosis, I hope, other references). At the end of the semester, the class is not pleased with that choice of text, but by the end of the year, when they have had an opportunity to use it in subsequent classes, they see the value of it. In fact, some students who did not like the book in December will not even let their compatriots borrow it in April! It has become one of the few things that are to precious to loan. One May, I was asked to sponsored an independent study in Computer Science for an academic-award-winning student, who had blasted me in December as sort of a dolt, and mean, too (and then signed it!). My first question to him was ``Why would you want to work with such a mean dolt?'' He explained that his opinions of my abilities and my personality had changed for the better. Ultimately, he got involved in my research and went off to a top-flight graduate program. I knew his graduate mentor and I helped him get a research assistantship instead of the usual teaching assistantship. We now stay in touch as friends.

In the Software Engineering course, I am especially able to latently address the acquiring of those aforementioned liberal arts skills. The course is formulated around a group project. I form the groups, according to ability (but never personality - like real life). The group then organizes itself. In most cases, the most able student is not the team leader; another more forceful person is chosen. I meet fortnightly with the groups, in lieu of class, to review the construction of the project. These reviews require substantive preparation; at each milestone a contracted deliverable is presented and turned in. The project is an opportunity for some self-inspection, (e.g. ``What part should I assume in the group?'') writing large documents, working together with people who are not your friends. The solution to the problem is both non-trivial and non- unique, and so requires critical analysis. These students deliver 4-inch binders, with working projects from user manuals to technical documentation. (One is part of the supporting documentation.) Many students take copies of this project on job interviews, and get favorable responses.

Until recently, I found it difficult to encourage my students in the classroom to engage in ministries to the disadvantaged, or any others who might need some humane technical assistance. I am the facilitator of the our Senior Projects course, where students find independent soup-to-nuts projects to implement. Some of these projects have been off-campus: assisting Jubilee Jobs, Project Justice, and Beans and Bread to design and implement data-base systems for the management of client data. Also via the Projects course, some students have also aided the college community: an accounting/record management system was implemented for the college post office; portable multi-media presentation managers were provided for the economics department and the MIS department; the Bio-tutor of the biology department was extended to an MCAT tutor; a distributed, networked database management system was installed for the Sellinger School.

I interact with my students outside the classroom. I eat lunch in the department lounge. I hang out in the student lab. These afford opportunities to get into those famous bull sessions of college. Here I am able to challenge (and be challenged) in how computing professionals, and the technological in-crowd ought to be behave both within and without the discipline. The discussions have ranged far and wide. This gives the students an opportunity to see sides of me that don't come out in the classroom and gives me an opportunity to see my students other than as performers in the classroom. In these wide ranging conversations we all come to deeper knowledge of ourselves, and examine and clarify our individual senses of values. I play racquetball, basketball with students and have a yearly open house.

I have been able to involve students in my research. I took four undergraduate students to demonstrate a prototype tool that they helped construct to the premier conference in software engineering. Through a National Science Foundation grant, I was able to hire one undergraduate student and one graduate student for two years and two other undergraduates for one year. Two Software Engineering (CS 482) classes also constructed components of the refined and expanded prototype. It is now a full-blown tool that works on ``industrial strength'' software. This version has been demonstrated at the National Institute of Standards and Technology.

While my job at Loyola is ostensibly in the classroom, I aim for results that appear outside the classroom. Can the influence of my life and witness carry on past the end of a semester? I hope so; if it doesn't I'm in the wrong business. I believe that I foster the development of skills, knowledge and understanding long after they have left Loyola. In that sense I have achieved my goal of making myself useless to their growth; they now grow on their own.