In one of the courses I teach, I give lectures about half of the time. Despite my commitment to problem-based learning (PBL)1 and other student-centered constructivist teaching strategies, I must confess that I still enjoy lecturing. However, my many years of experience with PBL have made me a much more reflective lecturer. When I do lecture in class, I have a heightened awareness of what I am doing, why I am doing it, and how it might impact student learning. I also read closely the nonverbal cues of student boredom and confusion and try to adjust accordingly. When I was a college student, every course had a lecture format. Perhaps I have forgotten, but the presence of bored or confused students seemed to have little effect on the lecturer. If students lacked interest or had trouble understanding, perhaps they needed to study harder or drop the class. Certainly, the onus lay with the student, not the instructor. Although I agree that ultimately students must be responsible for their own learning, PBL has changed my perceptions of the role of the instructor as more than or something other than a lecturer. The lecture, when done well, goes far beyond covering the material. It is a carefully planned performance with student learning as its focus. Everyone has experienced dreadful lectures that seem disconnected from the audience. As a student, I resented teachers who held their notes in one hand, copied them on the blackboard with the other while talking with their backs to the class, and then later expected me to reproduce that information in closed book examinations. Why should students have to memorize material that the instructor could not reproduce from memory? Today lecturers can conceal such deficiencies by using PowerPoint slides, overhead transparencies, and photocopied handouts. For pedagogical reasons, I prefer to use stone-age technology—chalk on slate—and lecture with a minimal dependence on notes. Projected material has definite value when displaying complex macromolecules and using color to highlight specific features. However, an entire lecture that uses projected images and bulleted text usually means an inordinate amount of information that cannot possibly be processed simultaneously by a student. The instructor knows what is on a slide, but the student does not. The student has to look, listen, and try to assimilate everything quickly before it is gone. And the process repeats itself with each slide. Taking substantive notes, a valuable skill, is virtually impossible in the time available. Providing handouts of the slides in class or posting them on course websites can lessen this problem, but in my experience these materials substitute for the lecture (skip class) and the textbook (do not read) in the minds of many students. For “chalkaholics” like me, writing on a blackboard is a pacing device. It slows down the flow of information because we write more slowly than we can talk. It also puts a premium on writing down the most important information. Students rarely take notes on what they hear, but invariably they seem to copy anything written on the board. Furthermore, what we write on a blackboard remains until we erase it. Consequently, a continuity encompassing all or substantial parts of a lecture remains in view for both the lecturer and students to revisit at a glance. Even though writing on a blackboard helps pace a lecture, I still write faster than most students can copy down what I write. Consequently, I need to slow down and elaborate on what I am writing to highlight its significance. I am forced to consider questions such as: Is this really important? What does it show that students need to know? Can it be presented in a different and clearer way? Would it be better to have students read about the material in the textbook? How long should I wait for students to copy down information before I continue with a discussion? What questions do I ask to have them engage and think about the information? Next time, should I project the information and provide a corresponding handout to discuss, rather than write it on the board? Sometimes I deliberately try to grab students' attention by writing something complicated on the board such as the three-letter genetic code, the structure of heme, or the path of carbon in the Calvin cycle, without using notes. They are amazed that anyone would remember such details. I then respond by showing them the patterns that make remembering easier and remind them that the more they carry around in their head, the less they have to look up, and the better prepared they will be to be effective problem-solvers. Stone-age technology has some advantages that we should not forget.