I’ve taught social theory to undergraduate students at public institutions for over a decade, and among the instructional challenges this entails, one stands out as the most heartbreaking: the student who faced many challenges to get to college, who shoulders heavy personal responsibilities outside the classroom, goes to office hours, attends every lecture, and reads every page assigned–is just not reaching the level of understanding or receiving the grades they hoped for. You notice the bags under their eyes from the all-nighters. You hear the creeping doubt in their voice during office hours as the feeling that maybe they’re just “not a theory person” starts to take root. How do you convince them not to lose heart? How do you reassure them that, even if the results don’t yet match their effort, their learning is real and they’re making progress? 

The literature on the challenges of teaching social theory and strategies to address them is vast. It contains many helpful and creative ideas. However, there’s no quick fix, no clever pedagogical shortcut, that can replace the slow, cumulative labor of reading, writing, thinking, and talking about theory—the only path to that hard-won moment when the text starts to open up for you. 

I’d like to share seven principles for teaching social theory that have proved effective in helping my students stay the course. They’re easy to adopt in any classroom, regardless of size or institutional setting. 

1. Less Is More When It Comes to Theory

With theory, meaningful learning happens when students have the time and space to linger with the text—to reread, annotate, puzzle through difficult sentences, and sit with confusion. Long reading assignments undermine these conditions by pressuring students to power through instead of slowing down. Smaller, more manageable chunks of text invite depth over speed. 

2. Model the Method

It’s not enough to explain the text—you have to show students how to read it. I project a passage, ask someone to read it aloud, slowly, sentence by sentence. We look up unfamiliar words, discuss tricky concepts, rephrase in our own words, underline, highlight, diagram, and annotate. The goal is to model, in real time, the messy, looping process by which understanding gradually takes shape.

3. Start With the Big Picture

When it comes to theory, every sentence can be a heavy lift. Without a clear sense of the big picture, it’s easy for students to get lost in the details–working unproductively to decode line by line. That’s why I start by giving them the main argument and a rough map of how the parts fit together. It can feel like giving too much away, but I’ve found that offering the destination up front provides students with a map that anchors their efforts without doing all the work for them–just enough support to make deep engagement possible, not overwhelming. 

4. Build a Bridge Between the Text and Their World

Theoretical texts often feel distant or abstract to students. To make them legible, I look for something more familiar—a news story, a film scene, a meme, a personal anecdote, even a lyric from a song—that gives students an intuitive understanding of the argument or concept. The goal isn’t to confirm what students already believe—it’s to meet them where they are. Learning requires rethinking, even unlearning. But unless a new idea connects with something they already grasp intuitively, the deeper insight won’t land. You have to reach them before you can move them.

5. Normalize the Struggle 

I make it a point to tell students how lost I felt the first time I read a given author, and that even now—if it’s been a while since I last read their work—I still have to reread, revisit my notes, and puzzle through passages. What they might hear as clarity in my explanations is really just time invested: I’ve read that section dozens of times. The real danger is mistaking fluency for intelligence. As with anything you want to get better at—whether it’s tennis or theory—it takes patience, persistence, and practice.

6. Proactively Invite Questions

Don’t just wait for questions—intentionally and regularly make space for them. I pause often and say things like, “Let’s stop here. This is a tough passage—let’s take a step back and unpack it.” The goal is to send a clear signal: questions aren’t interruptions, they’re part of the process. I expect them, because this work is challenging.

7. Stay Humble, Stay Curious

The more familiar you are with a text, the harder it is to remember what it’s like to read it for the first time—this is called the curse of expertise. You can’t overcome it on your own; you need your students. Ask them what makes sense and what doesn’t. Invite them to share their misunderstandings and confusions, and listen closely when they do. That feedback isn’t just useful for clarifying the text—it’s a reminder that effective teaching begins with humility.

In the end, teaching theory is as hard as learning it–which is why we should approach this work, and each other, with humility, compassion, and respect.