Embarassing

This was a mistake. I'm sorry.

"If you tell me, dear reader, that you agree with me completely, then I must suspect one or both of us of dishonesty." -Wendell Barry

Speaking about her status as a "middle-class white woman" and it's effect on her teaching Bishop states, "I wonder what it would mean for a change not to respond with guilt to this fact, to move from useless apology into exploration as I consider the benefits and strengths of caring about teaching writing. That is, I don't find it productive to spend a teaching life assuming that I'm teaching for suspect, seldom-interrogated, and impoverished reasons. If I do, what becomes of me as a classroom teacher? Do I become burned-out or endlessly apologetic? Do I turn defensive, snobbish, or jaded?" (Bishop p 68) Her quote above is instructive for young and inexperienced teachers, it is a reminder that lived experience is not a blemish that must be effaced or a fault that must be apologized for; rather, it can be a source of strength and empowerment. There are important reasons for seeing personal experience and personal interests this way, and she mentions a few of them: If one is constantly self-effacing, then that person is consistently undercutting his or herself, and will, eventually, burn out; because, they will not be able to put their full selves into their work. Secondly, if the self is seen merely as an object of suspicion and doubt, then how will one ever come to value their genuine insights and progress?

Paul Ricoeur, when speaking of Marx, Nietzsche, and Freud in his book Freud and Philosophy, referred to these thinkers as "masters of suspicion." Whether one likes to admit it or not we live in the shadow of these thinkers and their legacy, for better or worse; and one major aspect of that legacy is an abiding self-mistrust. Certainly there is value in self-interrogation, in not assuming oneself to be always and at all times correct, to suspect even the most mundane and simple assumptions handed down through culture or education; however, there is also the potential for a deeply unsettling and unproductive type of doubt to override one's ability teach. This doubt is the kind that cripples and retards one's passion, which dries out that wellspring of motivation that allows one to get up every day and do what one does.

As Melissa rightly points out, through a quote from Bishop, "I’m drained if I try to teach civics to writing students, for that is not my expertise or interest” (72). This quote is instructive on many levels: firstly, Bishop is acknowledging the fact that she is teaching writing not civics; secondly, that her passion is for writing and not civics; and finally, that she is human and that her interests and passions necessarily inform, and delimit her enthusiasm and energy. In this connection, one might point to the simple fact that of the TA's engaged in teaching WRIT 101, only a small percentage might actually see themselves as passionately invested in the art and practice of teaching writing. This isn't to say that each and every TA can't be passionately invested in teaching his or her particular WRIT 101 class, or that any or all of them are not adequately enthusiastic for the job; rather, it is to indicate that the passions and interests of most TAs lie somewhere outside the WRIT 101 classroom. For some the passion might be in composing poetry or prose, or in analyzing the poetry and prose of others, for some it might be an engagement with politics or social movements, for others it might be a passion for learning for its own sake, or it may be for cooking, photography, music, art, sports, or a significant other; in any event, it would be dishonest to deny any of these as legitimate objects of passion and enthusiasm. Indeed, what's the point of going to school for creative writing, literature, or whatever you please if you're not passionate about it? And, what's the point of not harnessing that passion for use in the WRIT 101 classroom?

Because Learning (Teaching) about Composition is (still) about (Learning) Teaching Composition

“For me, learning begins with questioning.” Bishop makes this statement on page 70 of her article, and I think it’s a great way to start off this blog post. I, too, learn through questioning (I think we all do), and I’d like to offer some thoughts on these two essays that set me pondering, not only about this week’s readings, but the ideas we’ve bandied around all semester, as well as the way we as TAs (and more broadly, as writing teachers), approach our classrooms. Like Bishop goes on to say, “For none of them do I have final answers, measurable outcomes,” but in the ‘spirit of inquiry’ that we’ve all been thinking about so much, I think the answers aren’t as important as the questions themselves.

I thought that these two essays were especially apropos, coming at the end of the semester as they have. Both Bishop and Powell bring to light one of the most, if not THE most important questions that faces any teacher: How do I translate theory into practice?

I’d imagine that this is a question that plagues all conscientious teachers throughout their careers (although, as Roskelly mentioned (p 65), very few college professors have any training as teachers, so perhaps such thoughts only plague those of us who have read pedagogy theory.) At any rate, it seems that as brand-new teachers, this question may weigh even heavier on us: We’re wet-behind-the-ears, idealistic, and have just swallowed a whole semester’s-worth of dense, philosophical pedagogy theory. We all desperately want to do the right thing, teach the right way, be open and supportive and enable our students to break out of circles and engage in the world in critical and self-actualizing ways. We all want to emulate bell hooks and change the world, and we should. And yet, Bishop mentions that “scholarly writings run the danger of distracting us from our work even as it allows us to reflect on that work” (73)

Because at the same time that we’re striving to emulate theory, we’re struggling with the everyday logistics of being a teacher (not to mention being a student at the same time). It’s incredibly important to study and understand theories about pedagogy, oppression, and ways to disrupt the status quo, but on a daily basis, it’s exactly like Bishop says: “When I look at a group of writing students…I don’t think about reproductive public spheres or corporate needs or cultural transmission. I think ‘Why doesn’t Summer have a draft again?’”(72). Oftentimes, it feels as though the realities of the classroom get in the way of teaching; or more specifically, in the way of how we want to teach, how we’ve been told we’re supposed to teach.

Because really, for a lot of us, teaching is tricky and often stressful business: It’s new and scary, but also exciting; freshmen can be horrible people (and, of course, wonderful people too); and for many of us, we’re in a new place, navigating the strange new world of graduate school at the same time. We’re grappling with ideas within the first few weeks of school that career writing teachers take an entire lifetime to think about. It’s overwhelming.

So what’s a TA to do? Well, I think we first need to take heart in essays like Powell’s and Bishop’s, and realize that everyone who teaches writing struggles with the potential disconnect between theory and practice; we’re part of a community. I think we also need to turn to our own teaching/learning/writing community here, and work together to figure out practical, concrete ways to implement theory in the classroom. Ask more questions, of ourselves, and especially of each other; “How do you do this in your classroom? What works for you?” Like Bishop says, “I owe as much or more to the actual as to the possible. Like all writing teachers, I need more time and space and support for tending to daily teaching transactions” (72).

Also, I think it’s important to heed Powell’s advice, and engage in a dialogue with texts that deal with these very issues. People have been thinking about how to teach writing for a long time; there’s no sense in us reinventing the wheel. But it’s important, too, not simply to swallow all of these theories of pedagogy (that would be falling right into the banking system of education, which we all know is a no-no), but instead, like I said, to engage in a dialogue with them. What do you agree with, and disagree with? What belongs in your classroom, and what doesn’t? Try to further emulate Powell, and write through and about your response to the texts and the issues. The best way to teach dialogics is to engage in it ourselves. The more we embody the theories we read about, the less foreign they become, and the easier it will be to break out of old pedagogical frameworks (the ones that many of us experienced in college, and fall back on as safe and familiar), and into new ones.

This brings me to my final point: as we read about race, gender, class, differentness, “otherness,” safety, trust, etc. etc., and the ways we need to rethink our awareness of each in the classroom, it sometimes feels as though we need to incorporate these big ideas specifically into our lesson plans. I don’t think, however, this is the case, exactly. Bishop says, “I’m drained if I try to teach civics to writing students, for that is not my expertise or interest” (72). Personally, I don’t think the writing classroom is the place to teach about these issues, but rather to teach through these issues. (How’s that for vague?) We don’t all need to become scholars of social inequality, but we need to be aware of the inequalities that exist, and use our classrooms as spaces to unpack the evidence of those inequalities as it arises. Readings like hooks and Roskelly go a long way to prepare us for these eventualities. Like Bishop says, we need to use those teachable moments, to be aware of our own biases and the biases that will arise within our students, and to use them as opportunities to enact theory in our practice. Over time, I think, the lessons we take from all the theory we’ve read will simply diffuse into our teaching. As Powell says, “In the practice of lived experience, this…is simply ‘what you do,’ is ‘the right way to behave,’ is the ‘way to be’” (571).

A Chat on Breaking (into) the Circle

In the spirit of group work and also just to explore Vygotsky’s Premise that “learning and knowledge are active, creative processes” (Roskelly 28) Jeff and I had a discussion on gmail chat to form our post for today. We’ve edited that chat a bit for readability, but mostly what you see here is akin to the conversations that Roskelly observed in the book. We feel it shows similar details as chapter two about how groups interact to make a plan under which to proceed and test concepts. It also serves, we think, as a playful beginning for our discussion of Breaking (into) the Circle. Please note: all smileys, lols, j/k's have been redacted from this version.

Mackenzie:  Hey.

 Jeff:  Hey.

Mackenzie:  I'll try and refrain from using smileys, but it will take self restraint.

 Jeff:  So lets get on it.

I encourage smileys,

go nuts with them.

Mackenzie:  Also, let's try and use descent grammar so we don't have to go back through and revise for it as heavily.

 Jeff:  Dont I always?

Mackenzie:  Ha, yeah well that was more for myself.

OK, well, I'd just like to start by mentioning this book makes me hyper-conscious of everything I say in groups now.

 Jeff:  So, should we do this as an interview, or more of a conversation?

Mackenzie:  I'd prefer conversation. Seems that's more natural which according to Roskelly is a better way to learn. By the way, James Strickland started things off by peeving me.

 Jeff:  How did Strickland peeve you?

Mackenzie:  On viii like the third paragraph. I'll paraphrase: He claims robins are preprogrammed for life.  Any time people make false claims about other species to stress human superiority I get peeved.

 Jeff:  yeah, that was a strange thing to bring up.

Mackenzie:  I just want that off my chest. It’s false to my experience. Birds are very social learners.

 Jeff:  it seems like all animals are/have to be. Not social learners but learners.

Mackenzie:  Yes, exactly. But also very different in their interactions than humans.

 Jeff:  Otherwise they wouldn't survive.

Mackenzie:  No one species is more or less pre-programmed. We're all dynamic.

 Jeff:  But this may be a little tangential.

Mackenzie:  Anyway, Roskelly didn't piss me off. Yes, but it will be fun for everyone to read I think! I am just excited for how this will document our dialogue in a way similar to what goes on in the book.

 Jeff:  No, she's too damn optimistic about group work/life to really be pissed by her.

She makes it all sound so easy.

Mackenzie:  Ha! Yeah I think we're all inclined to write about something we've figured out pretty well by the time we publish.... er if that makes sense.

 So as we further do the work all groups do at first meeting of figuring out a way to proceed, I'd like to suggest we take turns offering up things to talk about from the text.

 Jeff:  I think that is a capital idea.

Mackenzie: Ha! Great!

I can start if you want?

 Jeff:  Go for it.

Mackenzie:  One minute while I find/type a quote?

 Jeff:  K.

Mackenzie:  I think the introduction is worth spending a little time on. Because it answers the “So What?!” question Ballenger is always bringing up.

 Jeff:  I'm looking at it now, and what specifically would you like me to discuss about it?

Mackenzie:  Roskelly talks about a "circle of sameness that prevents voices from being heard and ideas from being questioned" (xii) and she generally says that small group work helps break up the traditions of established teaching that make that circle, traditions like hierarchy, race and gender. At least, I think that’s what she’s getting at. Also, that breaking those patterns is important for learning to occur, especially when we're interested in helping our students think about big, challenging and new ideas, like class, gender, and I'd add environmental issues.

 Jeff:  Ok, so yeah, she's talking about "breaking the circle", meaning exploring new places, taking on new roles, etc.  Do you buy that what she offers us is the way to best achieve that?

Mackenzie:  I guess I'm wondering if you agree with her thesis that group work is essential to that sort of learning?

 Jeff:  (I'm playing devil's advocate).

Well it looks like we've asked each other the same question.

Mackenzie:  Yeah, that was my thinking to, to question her a little.

Ha!

 Jeff:  I'll go first.

Mackenzie:  Great!

 Jeff:  Something she brings up a lot in the book is this idea of theory v. practice and while I think that a lot of what she talks about, her maxims, her reasoning for the efficacy of group work, are based on a teacher who is experienced within a classroom and has developed a certain level of comfort there.

Mackenzie:  Yeah, I agree with that.

 Jeff:  So I guess my answer is, yes, I buy it, but I don't believe it's something I am able to achieve. It's not a place I'm ready to have my students explore because I hardly know what the "established" place is.

Mackenzie:  Hmmm I can go with that.

Well we've learned the established place all our lives, our roles have just jumped. Now we wear teacher hats.

 Jeff:  But I don't doubt that her idea that this breaking the circle can lead to greater leaps.

It's just that now we're the jerks hovering over our groups with our arms crossed.

Mackenzie:  For me, the challenge has been breaking up the power dynamic we all come into a class understanding. I think Roskelly offers a model with small group work.

 Jeff:  That's true, and I think that model is a good one.

Mackenzie:  Though we're still in classrooms, a space that has a lot of other factors of control and a long history for everyone involved, so I'm wondering if group work really could be enough.

But I'm excited to try it.

 Jeff:  I think it could be if from the get-go you establish it. She talks about that in that first chapter. If you look on page 2,

Mackenzie:  K

 Jeff:  3rd paragraph she describes how from the very beginning she establishes the group: "'It's a writing course,' I told them. 'Guess what we'll do next time in class?' They all got it quickly. Write... 'And guess what we'll do after that... get into our groups.'"

Mackenzie:  Yeah. And she makes them permanent, something I'm going to try next semester.

 Jeff:  Ya, that permanence is there from the start. And I don't think it's the same chapter but later on she shows us her syllabus and how that shows her students the emphasis she places on the importance of group work in the class and while she does point out that there are some flaws (some groups have too many quiet kids, some too many dominant) she believes the benefits of permanent group membership outweigh the negatives.

Mackenzie: Yeah, groups are integrated into every part of the curriculum. (An aside: I find the various figures in this book so interesting).

 Jeff:  Yeah, the diagrams are pretty cool. And the drawings. And the group names.

Mackenzie:  Ha, I hate the names.

 Jeff:  I like group names.

Why do you hate them?

Mackenzie:  Yeah, I don't like them, and I have no reason for it.

 Jeff:  Do you think it is patronizing to the students?

Because I could see it in that way

Mackenzie:  Yeah I think so, that's part of it.

Also, just like she says, it invokes grade school.

 Jeff:  Yeah.

Mackenzie:  But I'm convinced that making groups permanent does a lot for building interest in each other’s work. They get to see each other's work progress etc, see their impact, demand more of comments and feedback.

 Jeff:  I guess we should also address something she brings up a lot, which is: gender/race/culture differences as impediments to effective group work. 
Mackenzie:  Huh, I guess I read her as saying that differences become benefits.

 Jeff:  Well, ultimately, yes.

Mackenzie:  Let's say challenges?

 Jeff:  But she points them out as being the biggest points of group tension. Ok, yeah, challenges.

Mackenzie:  Ah yeah, they definitely do a lot to effect the dynamic and at times make tension.

Are you thinking of a specific part of the book?

 Jeff:  Ch. 4. But i guess I was just curious what you thought to yourself as you read that chapter. Since our teaching experience hasn't been the same as hers; I don't have any black students in my class.

Mackenzie: That's true. Both in that our students are mostly white and the curriculum we teach speaks to issues of environmental sustainability, unlike Roskelly's which looks like it's centered on identity discussions. There's another part in the chapter I really want to discuss too. After we've finished your vein.

 Jeff:  I've not heard any complaints from my students that originated with gender issues.

Mackenzie:  Well, but you have female students, people from different backgrounds still?

 Jeff:  But, ya, that's what i was getting at,i don’t have a similar teaching experience as she describes in ch 1 and later on

the differences in my class are mostly small town/big city backgrounds.

Mackenzie:  Ah I see what you're saying. I don't think we should undercut gender here though.

 Jeff:  No, and a lot of what she said about gender was quite salient.

Mackenzie:  I think there can be "issues" at play even if no one is complaining about them. Meaning there's things worth talking about that aren't readily apparent.

 Jeff:  Yes sir.

Mackenzie:  Ha ah, haha. Well played. For example, I thought when she described toward the end of chapter 3 how male groups would hurry to get everything done, and often not put much effort into reflecting, flushing out what they were doing, that was very true.

I let my students mix and match groups each day, but often they stick to the same crowds.

And I notice the two groups that are all guys tend to be the first done talking, and have the least amount written down and usually the least substantially as well. Then they like to sit there and stare anywhere but at each other!

 Jeff:  Yes, and i can say that's been my experience as well, not only from a teacher's perspective.

Mackenzie:  Ah, like now?

Ha, sorry, I can't escape that monitoring of my own behavior thing. Am I being the dictator or are we still having a good group dynamic?

 Jeff:  I think the problem is, and she says this on 111, that on the surface, gender issues seem not as big as issues of race.

Have you had any examples of that in your teaching this semester?

Mackenzie:  Yeah, I think that's definitely true.

 Jeff:  Have you seen, for example, a male student "take over" a conversation or take on the role of group leader?

Mackenzie:  I'm trying to think.

 Jeff:  Or not take into account the perspective of the females in the group?

 Mackenzie:  I'll say I do worry about that for myself.

 Jeff:  And maybe not even consciously but without being cognizant of it?

 Mackenzie:  I often question if I am undercutting the women in my class or dominating the discussion (I know I do that).

 Jeff:  Yes, I know I dominate the discussion as well, but is that a gender thing, or a novice teacher thing?

 Mackenzie:  I think both. I haven't noticed that with my students, but that's one of the struggles with group work for me. I can't be watching each conversation at every moment.

But I'm also happy to say I have a lot of assertive women in my class, and I have noticed that in class discussions, women tend to contribute the most.

I could talk about this gender part for the rest of our time but maybe we should get to some other parts of the book.

 Jeff:  I agree.

 Mackenzie:  We've also kind of curbed the race discussion, maybe that's something we can ask the class to take up?

 Jeff:  The big thing i want to know is how you've been affected by reading this book?

what changes will you make (either this semester or next) to your approach to group work?

 Mackenzie:  I feel like there's a lot I'm hoping to take back into my classroom, both this semester and next.

I'm definitely having permanent groups next semester, something I consciously decided not to do this semester (even though I have that maxims of small group work list from orientation up in our office).

I kind of wish we would have read this and bell hooks at the beginning of the semester.

 Jeff:  I thought those looked familiar!!!!! Now I know I'd seen them before.

 Mackenzie:  I'm going to let my students decide if they want their groups to have names!

I'm going to make group presentations a core part of my curriculum.

(One every unit by each group, half of participation points).

That will help with covering the readings I hope.

 Jeff:  I liked the idea of having a folder for every group. Also, just the importance of keeping group work relevant.

 Mackenzie:  I'm also getting them each a manila folder to keep track of group work, I thought that was one of those great teacher things to do.

I need to figure out the logistics of who keeps track of it... me, them?

What else?

Oh gender representation in each group.

 Jeff:  It would be nice if they would.

Mackenzie:  At least, one member of each gender.

 Jeff:  Make them more accountable and all.

Mackenzie:  Do you think that's a good idea?

Yeah, but if the one who is supposed to have it is sick–they're all screwed?

 Jeff:  In theory, yes.

But I just don't trust them to bring it to class, or not lose it.

Mackenzie:  Ha, me too, sadly.

What about you?

What are you taking away from this?

 Jeff:  I think I'm going to take a "Roskelly light" approach.

Mackenzie:  (Another aside: before we finish, can we talk about the bath room graffitti and some questions for everyone else to start talking about?)

Ha!

 Jeff:  meaning, I want to adopt some of her practices (highlighting the importance of group work early on, fixing permanent groups, manila folder) but I don't see myself being able to pull off a complete "Roskelly approach" next semester.

I don't think I'll give them group names, but maybe I will.

Mackenzie:  That sounds pretty complete to me?

Jeff:  You're right.

Well, I guess what I meant was, I want to do those things but I don't think I'll succeed.

I'll still dominate conversations.

I'll still give them inappropriate group assignments from time to time.

Mackenzie:  Ha, yeah that's true.

 Jeff:  I just won't be able to, like I mentioned at the beginning, put the theory into practice

Mackenzie:  But we'll do a little better because of Breaking (into) the Circle!

 Jeff:  INDEED!

Thanks, Roskelly!

Mackenzie:  Oh, also I just want to add what I'm taking away is what Roskelly describes in the conclusion, that groups make the teacher a learner. I get to find out what they think of the readings, what they've learned.

That they make everyone in the class room closer to a level discussion and purpose.
Ok so, if you don't mind, I've got an idea for how to finish this off. 

On 99-100, Roskelly talks about some bathroom graffiti.

A topic that holds a warm spot in my heart.

 Jeff:  Ya, i thought that was an interesting exchange.

It sounded suspiciously made up though.

Mackenzie:  Nah, there's photo evidence. I want to say that that conversation to me was just an awesome flame war, where people arguing that our culture is still inherently racist won.

My college would have graffiti conversations like that.

So it sounds believable to me.

Also, you never know who wrote what, meaning professors like Roskelli could have been involved in the conversation.

 Jeff:  Careful mackenzie, the way you're talking it sounds like you think argument is war...

Mackenzie:  Also, I thought the exchange between students about varied high school experience was another nice point.

Haha.

 Jeff:  Ya, that's just another thing to keep in mind as we go forward with our plans to be better teachers.

Every student comes from a diff background and being able to address the needs of those often disparate backgrounds is something we ought to be prepared to do.

Which I'm not.

Mackenzie:  Anyway, I think it just highlights both the race issue, that it is an important point of circle breaking that leads to learning, but also the inherent nature of group interaction and learning, something she describes nicely in the first couple of chapters talking about Vygotsky and other theorists. 
I want to add, group work helps to give voice to our students and acknowledge they have real things to teach everyone in class, no matter what their background is.

Lets just think of what we'd like to ask everyone?

I'd like to know how/if people think sustainability can occupy the same circle breaking status as race and gender do in the book. How do class race and gender come into play in our classrooms?

Also, I'm interested in hearing from everyone more on the question you asked me earlier:

What will they take away?
Also if they've seen any of what Roskelly talks about in terms of group dynamic and everyone having different things to add to achieve learning play out in their classes?

 Jeff:  I'd like to know some ways in which we already achieved, knowingly or no, this idea of "Breaking the circle" in our experiences as teachers thus far, or if not, where we think we went wrong. And what Roskelly might offer as a solution 
Mackenzie:  One last thing I guess is how much it's important for groups to follow these natural models, and how do we as teachers negotiate keeping groups on task without keeping them from learning naturally?

  Jeff: And that's it!  TTYL BTW delete all the smileys!

Guidelines for Class Week of Nov. 15

Class will "meet" electronically to discuss Roskelly by extending the blog posting and comments.

Typically, posters must post by Monday noon and commenters to all posts must conclude by noon on Wednesday.
To extend the conversation, we'll do the following:
1. Posters must still post by Monday noon.
2. Comment window is open through Friday at midnight.
3. Posters must comment at least three times.
4. Commenters should increase their number of comments to at least four. Ideally, visit the blog once/day to comment
5. Please maintain the academic integrity of posts/comments through the week (remembering our conversation on the rhetoric of blogging).

I'll be sure to report back on my conference when we meet next. If you have remaining questions about this reading you want us to discuss face to face, please bring questions to our meeting after Thanksgiving.

Please feel free to contact me by email or office hours to address questions.

Titles Are a Form of Oppression

In one of my earliest classes, I had my students free-write about an issue that they had some sort of personal investment in, hoping that it would help them center their Personal Academic Arguments. One girl wrote something like, “I don’t really know what you want me to say. My mom recycles and stuff, I guess, but I never lived on an Indian reservation or had an eating disorder or anything like that.” This is an issue that tripped up many of my students when working on their PAAs—they had an interest but felt they lacked the authority of experience that bell hooks both condones and examines as somewhat problematic. Later, when I was talking about the Personal Academic Argument in Writ 540, I said something like, “If I was taking this class I definitely would have made up a bunch of stuff for my personal narrative.” Reading bell hooks and Plevin along with these experiences has led me to think about why it is that we value student’s personal experience and subjectivity in writing and whether or not some student’s experiences are more valuable than others. I think that my glib comments in 540 revealed a wrong-headed attitude, because student’s personal writing is not about a neat little story of an eating disorder overcome or a unique experience on an Indian reservation. I think bell hooks helped me to realize that it is a great deal more meaningful than that, and that the personal experience of all students is valuable.

Writing about personal experience gives the writer a kind of authority that cannot be overstated. I have discovered, as I'm sure you all have too, how much students resist this kind of authority, believing that they do not deserve it or cannot wield it properly. bell hooks writes extensively about authority in the classroom—who has it and who assumes it and how teachers can take it away from their students. Authority has been an interesting issue for me, as a 22-year-old who feels that she is playing make-believe in the classroom sometimes. Going into this life-place unit, I felt nervous about my authority being challenged based on the fact that I am a recent transplant to Montana and know very little about its geography and culture. For someone who arrived here in August to talk to students who have lived here their whole lives about the bioregion of Missoula seemed absurd. bell hooks addresses this issue, saying that if she is asked to speak about exploited groups that are not black, she has invited students with more personal experience to speak out, “[welcoming] that knowledge because it will enhance our learning” (hooks 89). In a classroom activity we did recently about listing the natural and cultural features of Missoula, one student who is a lifelong Missoulian spoke out constantly. She is a student who is normally extremely bored and disinterested in class. Other students, many of whom typically do not make the best contributions in class, joined in, using personal experiences like having a part-time job at Costco to verify their observations. Truthfully, I was a little taken aback by how much more authority they had than I did—they were naming features of Missoula that I didn’t even know how to spell, and I didn’t want them to know how ignorant I was. But by teaching through the bell hooks model, I realize that I should have welcomed this authority, allowing my students to teach me and letting their personal experience give them a kind of authority.

bell hooks frequently addresses this idea of the personal vs. the theoretical, an idea that is particularly interesting to me when thinking about notions of authority in the classroom. Although the Writ101 curriculum creates a large space for personal narrative, personal experience is denigrated in the classroom setting. I was struck by the notion bell hooks addresses on page 65, of young women being assigned readings in feminist theory “only to feel that what they are reading has no meaning, cannot be understood, or when understood in no way connects to ‘lived’ realities beyond the classroom.” By putting young women in a classroom and handing them very abstract and theoretical readings that they feel they have no relationship with and telling them, “This is Feminism,” the world of academia is taking away the authority of their experiences to comment on the way that sexist gender norms influence the world around us. And, of course, as bell hooks points out, theory and practice should not really be polar opposites or exist in separate spheres—rather, “theory emerges from the concrete, from my efforts to make sense of my everyday life experiences, from my efforts to intervene critically in my life and the lives of others” (70). Throughout her writing, bell hooks encourages us as educators and as citizens to resist seeing things as opposing spheres: theory and practice, race and gender, student and teacher.

So, has this reading made you think critically about yourselves as teachers? How do we talk about subjectivity in our classrooms? Where is the line between giving our students authority and surrendering our own authority entirely? And how does this all relate to Plevin’s reading on the authority of writing about place?

Risky Business

This is (also) a playful dialogue between myself, Kirsi M., and my writing voice, Kirsi “I’m So Completley Awesome” M., affording me the intimacy to speak on the readings of bell hooks.

KM: What parts of this reading did you find most revolutionary?

K(ISCA)M: Interesting question. In the first chapter, hooks says that she arrived at much of her teaching philosophy from encountering two important sources, Thich Nhat Hanh and Paulo Freire. She explains that through Thich Nhat Hanh’s approach of holistic learning which includes s spiritual practice, she came to the conclusion that the classrooms should strive to incorporate the “whole” human being, “not just knowledge in books, but knowledge about how to live in the world.” For me this idea is a little problematic because I can’t help but wonder how the spiritual development of students would be brought into the classroom. When it comes to spirituality, I believe that Edmund Gosse (Father and Son) said it best, “It is the privilege of every human being to fashion one’s inner life for themselves.” I think there is a real breakdown between ideally what we’d like education to be, and what it reasonable to expect it to be without infringing on student’s inner lives.

I like the solution that hooks offers about confession. She encourages educators to be vulnerable and bring in the narratives of their own lives, thereby encouraging students to make connections between academic discourse and their own confessional narratives (21). I think this can feel very revolutionary to the student.

KM: Interesting point, but what do you mean that students should go blabbing about their problems in the classroom—doesn’t that seem counterproductive?

K(ISCA)M: No. Hooks addresses this when she writes, “It is utterly unreasonable for students to expect classrooms to be therapy sessions, but it is appropriate for them to hope that the knowledge received in these settings will enrich and enhance them” (19). There is a definitely a difference between an anything-goes therapy session, and being appropriately confessional as a way to connect learning and living on the part of the student. Let me give an example.

KM: Great!

K(ISCA)M: When I first transferred to the University of Iowa I was determined to be a good student. I was in a literature class on racism where we were asked to write a series of reading reflections, and I kept turning in these polished, wordy, academic, researched, thesis-driven one-paged response essays. On everyone my teacher wrote, “Good, but I can’t tell what you’re thinking.” And I kept thinking, But I wrote what I was thinking! It’s right there, all my thoughts. I kept getting the same sorts of feedback. Then finally I got it, OH! She can’t tell what I’m thinking. Which led to a whole spiral of thoughts and confusions, but why does she care what I think, I’m not smart, I don’t have anything better to say than these scholars…

We were reading a book on the Japanese American Internment and the paper assignment was similar to the PAA in that we were asked to make a personal connection to the story. At the time I was dating someone who was and 1/8 Japanese and also, I wound up pregnant. It happens. Anyway, it was a very shocking thing to discover that during the internment, the government was locking people up who were as little as 1/16 Japanese. That would mean that in another parallel universe, 70 some years in the past, and with this same child, the two of us were being thrown into a camp and locked away, right now! Stranger still, my Grandfather had been stationed in San Louis Obispo at that time and was very likely one of the people running around collecting Japanese American citizens and locking them away. This became a real personal and academic crisis for me, and I wrote my paper about it.

I felt so rebellious and liberated; I was turning in a college paper that had references to my deeply personal life, “I kept thinking, she wants personal? I’ll show her! I didn’t expect that this was exactly what my teacher wanted of me.

When hooks argues for a revolution of values, she essentially is saying: stop playing it safe. “If we fear mistakes, doing things wrongly, constantly evaluating ourselves, we will never make the curricula address every dimension of that difference (multiculturalism).” But I think we can extend this further to say that constantly fearing mistakes and evaluating ourselves can’t possibly help us make the classroom a safe environment where students feel that they can bring in their whole-selves. I think we have to take risks if we want our students too, and I think that the best learning comes when risks are taken.