Jude Law is finishing a stint as "Hamlet" in, of all places, Denmark. His portrayal will be haunting New York in the coming months, for a limited run.

Commenting to an interviewer from The New York Times, Mr. Law said he doesn't read reviews of his performances. "If you read good reviews," he says, "You become self-conscious about the bits they like, and it starts to make those bits tacky - as if you're churning them out."

"And if you get bad reviews, they're going to crush your ego. It's like vinegar in the wound. So there's no point in reading them."

His perspective is quite pertinent to me as a writer, teacher, trainer, and professional speaker.

I used to bill myself as a TOP-RATED instructor at various university colleges of continuing education. I'm not convinced this self-glorification ever made the difference in anyone choosing to enroll in one of my courses, or in retaining me for their companies to speak or to consult.

And over time, I decided peacocking in this way wasn't all that helpful. I found myself expecting praise and becoming too conservative. I resisted trying out new and potentially ratings-reducing topics.

What did it say about me or about my classes that my ratings were, at times, flawless, all 5's on 5-point scales? When I failed to earn the kudos of all, I relentlessly soul-searched to determine how I fell from grace with those few that took issue with my style, content, or treatment.

Were those classes, the ones that failed to "reach" certain attendees, materially worse than the top-rated ones?

What about the best-selling books I've written, those that have sold hundreds of thousands of copies? Are they more meritorious than the titles that were orphaned by publishers that were suddenly gobbled-up by larger corporate predators, just as my tomes reached bookstores?

Now, I've come full-circle and share Mr. Law's view. I don't really care to see my teaching evaluations, book reviews, or to hear feedback, unless it is literally, earth shaking or life changing.

I feel like actors that decline Academy Awards, while asking: "How can you compare two artists that do unique interpretations of different characters?"

When Teacher "A" gets great scores for his Geometry class, this doesn't necessarily compare to Teacher "B" that garners glowing comments for his Psychology class. In the former case, the bar may be lower or higher because great Geometry teachers are rare; their fields are difficult for students to plow. If we are lucky enough to find a math whiz that is an excellent communicator as well, maybe we're amazed.

Psychology is inherently fun because it is less exacting and seemingly, ALL ABOUT US! Especially for beginners, every session can bring thunderbolts, new insights and revelations, or as we say in training circles: Take-home value. Psychology just might be the closest thing to pure entertainment you can find in a college curriculum, though Sociology, a kindred field, and one of my near-majors, scores a close second.

Am I in favor of abolishing all teaching evaluations?

Not in the least, if only because they are cathartic for those students that fill them in. It makes them feel they have influence, that they are not powerless.

Somewhat like a legislature that can pass non-binding resolutions, teaching evaluations and theatrical reviews should be regarded as pronouncements that are largely symbolic, opinion-expressing exercises.

Resolutions are not laws, and while they garner a certain amount of polite respect, they aren't to be taken, literally or be pushed too far.

In an unrelated piece in The New York Times a professor said students should listen to him "Because I know more than you do!"

And I'm sure much the same can be said for Mr. Law's "knowledge" of Hamlet, and for most writers, speakers, and teachers.