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?
John makes a good point here by elaborating on Bishop's claim that we have to keep from being too suspicious of our backgrounds, of our motivations and power. I do think we teach better when look to how we benefit our classes with our passions.
ReplyDeleteI've found my student's seem to think so as well. Over the life place essay I've been working from an identity on which I have more standing: Mackenzie, poet. The funny thing is I shirk this title in everyother context, but if you ask one of my students about me, one of the first things they'll tell you is that I have an unhealthy interest (obsession?) with poetry. And the result, from grading papers and reading the feedback about the unit I asked for from my students, is positive. This is the first assignment I've consistently quality work, writing where I believe most of my students were invested.
In contrast, I started the semester as Mackenzie, reluctant teacher and busy grad student. The role of teacher has been a point of contention for me my whole life. Even as I've found myself enacting that role over the past few years, I've done it with trepidation. Ultimately, that reluctance has been apparent to my students and made teaching difficult no matter how prepared I was.
So I have to agree with Bishop, we need to go in with firm empowered ground to stand on. For me, that has come from my knowledge of poetry. But as a poet, I'm constantly questioning myself, my writing, the world. By adopting this role, I can also deconstruct a little all the other identities I enact in the class room. For example, as a poet I can talk honestly about my work, I can share where I struggle (I have two beeks to read this week and all I want to do is write poems!). I can deconstruct the position of power I've found myself in by being open about what my poet self is up to. Of course, it also makes it easier to feel comfortable with other hierarchies I want to down play in my class. For example, where I feel uncomfortable standing over group work with my arms crossed as a TEACHER, my poet self can simply pull up a chair and ask "so, what are you guys talking about?"
That's interesting Mackenzie, but how did you define yourself as a poet-teacher instead of it reluctant grad student teacher? I had great success with the Life Place Essay unit as well, but I attributed that to the fact that it just seems to be a funner assignment. The students like to write about themselves. And that was easier to work with in whatever role I occupied as kirsi-teacher-writer-deranged and exhausted-grad student.
ReplyDeleteBut I do think there is something true about teaching from a strong identity. And maybe this has more to do with us as TAs admitting sooner that we are people and students too, and trying to keep less distance from our students in the hope that it will lend us some authority.
I think John presents a good argument for harnessing the passion we share for literature/creative writing/whatever for use in the classroom. My one question though is, how? Maybe it's just the time of the year, but I find myself increasingly disinterested in my class, in "being a teacher", and more focused on creative writing. In fact, I'd say that I held more ambition for myself as an instructor at the semester's start than I do now.
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