Very Unsatisfactory
May marks the end of my fifth semester teaching.
Each year feels a little easier—and a little harder. Easier because my core materials are mostly built. Other than the occasional overhaul (which I’ll probably need to do again next year), the tweaks are minor. Harder because I now see more clearly what’s working and what’s not—and I’m always striving to make it better.
The curse of experience is realizing how much you don’t know. When you’re new, ignorance can feel like confidence. But once you’ve done it for a while, imposter syndrome starts whispering: They’re going to realize you don’t know what you’re doing.
As a non–tenure track professor, there’s not a lot of institutional scrutiny—no pressure to publish, no tenure committee. So the only “grades” I get are from one peer evaluation (in five semesters) and my end-of-semester student evaluations.
The Feedback Trap
If you’ve ever taught a class, you know how hard it is to get students to complete evaluations. It’s the last week of the semester—finals, presentations, burnout. Filling out a survey to help next semester’s students? Not high on the priority list.
But somehow, I usually get over 80% participation. Which, frankly, deserves its own award.
The two questions that actually go into your performance review:
Overall, the course was…
Overall, the instructor was…
Rated from Excellent to Very Unsatisfactory, scored from 5.0 to 1.0, respectively.
I’m proud of my instructor record so far: 4.7 average over 2.5 years—well above the university average.
And this semester? Over 70 students responded. The overwhelming majority said they loved the class. Meaningful feedback. Actionable suggestions. Strong praise. But what did I focus on?
You guessed it: The one student who marked me as a “Very Unsatisfactory” instructor.
And yeah—it got to me.
This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming paid subscriber.
Why Do We Obsess Over the One?
It’s human nature, right? We could be surrounded by 96 people applauding, but the one heckler in the back is the voice that sticks.
That’s the voice imposter syndrome listens to. “See? They know. You’re not good enough.”
We let it fester. It alters our mood. Maybe even our actions. At work. At home. With the next class. But I caught it early this time.
I reminded myself: It’s not my job to make everyone happy. In fact, maybe the class wasn’t hard enough. Maybe I wasn’t pushing my students far enough.
Growth Hurts
I thought about one of the best professors I had at UT: Patrick Badolato. He teaches accounting—which, let’s be honest, isn’t exactly everyone’s favorite subject. But he made it compelling. Challenging. Real. I used to parrot him at parties just to sound smarter. Even if you don’t care about accounting, it’s critical to business. Not just for keeping the books—but because it’s the language of decision-making.
What I remember most isn’t how easy his class was. Because it wasn’t. It was hard—even for someone like me who loves numbers. But that challenge forced me to think differently. To get better.
Not everyone appreciates that. Some hate it. Because, well, they don’t want hard—they want an easy A. He has received way more “Very Unsatisfactory” ratings and negative comments. In fact, he wears them like a badge of honor and ends presentations with them.
The Balance Between Challenge and Burnout
I once asked Patrick how he balances challenging students with not turning them off completely. He teaches 20+ courses a year. He has won a teaching award every year over the past decade. Over 1,000 students a year, yet the man still somehow remembers my name. His answer?
“That’s the question I’ve been trying to figure out for years.”
But the question isn’t just about students. It’s about teams. It’s about parenting. It’s about life.
How do you challenge people to grow—without pushing them into burnout?
How do you keep showing up—even when people criticize you for doing the hard thing?
You Will Not Be Everyone’s Cup of Tea
The more public you are, the more feedback you’ll get. Some of it helpful. Some of it harmful. Some of it just noise.
You can either:
Ignore it completely.
Internalize all of it, good and bad (not advised).
Or find a third way…Let it inform you, but not define you.
Where you stay open enough to grow—but grounded enough not to let it break you. If you’re trying to be everyone’s favorite, you’re probably not being yourself. You’re watering down your edge. Your convictions. Your values.
Let’s say you walk into a room of 10 random strangers:
2 will love you immediately.
2 can’t stand you.
6 are undecided.
I’d rather be real and have 5 people love what I do than fake it and try to win over 8 with a version of me that’s not even real.
Authenticity Requires Courage
And courage sometimes means accepting that if you’re not getting a few “Very Unsatisfactory” reviews…
You may not be pushing hard enough. You may not be doing work that matters. You may not be growing by challenging those around you.
So yeah—I got one "Very Unsatisfactory."
It stung. But five semesters of teaching have taught me something important: The class that pleases everyone probably challenges no one. The same can go for leadership.
So that's the professor and leader I want to be. Not universally loved, but deeply impactful. I'm proud of this semester. And that one review? It's just a reminder that I'm on the right track.
Connect with Zach
Website • Twitter • LinkedIn • Youtube