Over the years, I've almost completely stopped lecturing. I much prefer to serve as a moderator and let the students do the talking. I think that, in Philosophy at least, a model that emphasizes active student participation in the discussion is extremely effective at engaging students and helping them to come to terms with the material. I love being at the centre of a class of students who are energetically discussing and debating philosophical material. It's really fun and inspiring.

I probably have the most fun teaching my course Philosophy 202/WS 222 "Philosophy of Sex and Gender." It's a great class that mashes classic readings from the Western canon stretching back to Plato and the Bible with some really edgy contemporary films and even a field trip to the roller derby. The course has developed a reputation as a really fun, but very demanding, course that forces students to think critically about the so-called "gender binary" -- to re-examine just how fundamental the male/female division really is. The students who take the course come from every faculty; very often, they've heard about the course from a friend and know exactly what they're getting into (which means that they come to the course prepared to participate a lot and work hard, but also to throw themselves into some of the course's fun activities). I love the course material, but I especially love the energy the students bring to that class.

How do your research and teaching activities intersect?

When I first came to University of Waterloo, all of my research involved pretty traditional issues in the history of philosophy. But teaching "Philosophy of Sex and Gender" has led me into research on the philosophy of sex. In particular, I've been researching our concepts of "male", "female" and "sex" (the category, not the activity) to see how well-formed they are -- to what extent they're grounded in real biological facts and to what extent they're socio-culturally contingent. Doing research in this area has, in turn, helped me to better understand connections among some of the figures I work on in the history of philosophy. Thinking about sex categories and whether or not there are hard and fast distinctions between them has forced me to notice that the historical philosophers I find most interesting tend to see the universe as continuous rather than discrete. I see another, broader project on the ethical and political applications of a metaphysics of continuity emerging from these reflections. Without teaching, my research would have taken a totally different turn. And, of course, my research interests mean that I'm really passionate about the material I teach. My teaching evaluations always remark on how passionate I am about philosophy. I think it's important for students to be exposed to that.

How would you describe your teaching style?

My teaching is fundamentally collaborative. You can't teach without learners; teaching and learning go hand in hand. I structure my teaching so that students, as learners, are highly active and take leadership roles in the classroom. They're not sitting quietly typing whatever I say. We argue, we share stories, we exchange ideas. My teaching isn't about one individual; it's about the whole group. This is harder work for students than sitting anonymously in a traditional lecture hall, but the pay-offs -- for them and for me -- are much greater. Philosophy began in the Athenian "agora" or marketplace, where the men would daily gather to debate the big ideas. In my teaching, I work to cultivate the feeling of a busy market with lots of different voices audible.

What is your main learning goal for your students, particularly as they graduate and set off into the world?

I want them to have the courage and the commitment to take chances in their learning and to pursue those topics and projects that they're really passionate about. People do their very best work when they love what they do, but lots of young people are so worried about the next thing down the line -- law school, or a job, or whatever -- that they often choose to study what they think they should love rather than what they really do love. It's such a shame because working hard on something you're passionate about produces seriously impressive results, so much more impressive than going through the motions on projects you think you ought to be doing. I think that students best prepare themselves for the rest of their lives -- their careers of course, but not just their careers -- when they get good at the stuff they love, but it takes a lot of courage and energy to follow this path.