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Significantly, Again

You have a duty in your role as an educator to make change. Do the work and don’t stop the conversations.

Kenneth Reid, African American Affairs, Minnesota State University, Mankato

Now that I’ve had a couple of weeks to recover from the spring semester, I thought I’d take a pass at reflecting on my previous reflection, on the “Authenticity” chapter of Josh Eyler’s How Humans Learn.

In my previous post, I wrote about my goal to make writing assignments more authentic, perhaps by tying them to experiences such as rock climbing and/or connecting my class to a TWP class. But the world has changed—significantly, again—since then. The state-sponsored oppression and murder of African American people has been going on for 400 years, of course, so that’s not new, but the extrajudicial killings of George Floyd, Aumaud Arbery, and Breonna Taylor have launched a new civil rights movement, and the events of this summer will have a direct impact on all of our students. I’m wrestling now with how to connect the work of my Composition classes with the historical moment our we’re all living through, while also being sensitive not to inflict more trauma on vulnerable students. I believe it is my responsibility to confront racism directly, to challenge the inequalities built into our educational system, but I must also be careful not to do more harm.

I also plan to search for and share resources specifically about caring for students of color in rural, predominantly white institutions. (If anyone has recommendations, I’m here for ‘em.) Our students face challenges different from those in more urban and ethnically diverse areas. As an example, I rarely have more than one Black student at a time in any given class, and I know from speaking with these students that they’re often put in the impossible position of being a spokesperson for all people of color in front of a class of white students. I hope that we, as an institution, can do a better job of listening to, caring for, and educating these students, and I want to do everything I can to support those efforts.

Of course, I am not a scholar of education, criminal justice, or critical race studies. I mostly teach writing, so that’s where I’ll be focusing my efforts. On my reading list for the summer are Asao Inoue’s Antiracist Writing Ecologies: Teaching and Assessing Writing for a Socially Just Future, bell hooks’ Teaching to Transgress, and Ibram X. Kendi’s How to Be an Antiracist. I’ll be reading more, of course, but I want to focus my reading here for now. I’m also committing myself to keeping a blog (which is where I’ll continue to post my CPLC “homework”), for my own accountability and because I want to incorporate blogging into my Comp classes, as a part of my efforts to make writing more “authentic.” I’m grateful that so many of my colleagues here are also committed to anti-racist work in and out of the classroom, and I look forward to our conversations.

The epigraph above comes from a webinar I just attended (and highly recommend), “The Effects of Police Brutality and Racism on Black Students & Professionals in Education,” presented by African American Affairs at Minnesota State University at Mankato. I’ll link the recording here once it’s posted.

I’m going to close this post with words from Asao Inoue, from his Chair’s Address to the Conference on College Composition and Communication (CCCC) in 2019, because I’m taking it to heart as a challenge to myself:

You are good people. And yet you are the problem, but you don’t want to be. Think about that for a minute. You can be a problem even when you try not to be. Sit and lament in your discomfort and its sources. Search. If our goal is a more socially just world, we don’t need more good people. We need good changes, good structures, and good work that make good changes, structures, and people.

Asao Inoue, College Composition and Communication, Dec, 2019

On Authenticity

A reflection on the “Authenticity” chapter of Josh Eyler’s How Humans Learn

I originally wrote this as homework for CPLC Season 1, back in early April, before the Eyler event and the homework were cancelled due to COVID-19. I was going to go back and polish it up, but then I decided to leave it a bit raw, to reflect the strain under which it was written.

Although I’ve been working approximately a billion hours a day every day since March 13, most of that work has been reactive—adjusting syllabi and assignments, trying to track down students, responding to student work, hosting and attending Zoom meetings, scrolling through Twitter in search of advice, help, and reassurance from the voices I trust there, but getting pulled into despair by what I actually find there. Today was the first time I slowed down and really tried to read and to actually think, and I found it incredibly difficult.

This chapter was short, only twenty or so pages, and I think I stopped at least a half dozen times to check Twitter. It wasn’t even conscious, I just kept grabbing my phone and scrolling. Trying to write this piece right now is difficult, but it is helping me cultivate empathy for what my students are experiencing. I’m lucky to have a great deal of autonomy in what and how I teach, and I’ve never been more grateful for my colleagues and administrators for their support. But having to produce this simple “assignment” is challenging, and it’s hard for me to imagine how my students are doing this all day, every day, for four or five different classes, especially as the stakes for them are infinitely higher.

But to get back to this chapter, Eyler first defines what he means by an authenticity: “[A] truly authentic learning experience must have ‘as much fidelity as possible to what students will encounter outside of school in terms of tools, complexity, cognitive functioning, and interactions with people’” (153). Eyler then provides descriptions and examples of several types of authentic learning: undergraduate research opportunities, experiential learning, and immersive experiences. He also explains why prolonged lectures are both ineffective (human brains just aren’t made to absorb information that way) and unjust (they exacerbate inequalities already prevalent in education, particularly in terms of gender and race).

I read through this chapter with Composition on my mind. Teaching Comp is my main responsibility, and I’m always trying to make it a more engaging and rewarding experience for my students (mostly traditional first-year students from across the disciplines). Comp classes at PSU have embraced the Cluster-based model of learning, and I’ve taught a wide variety of themed Composition classes in the past few years (including Gender & Culture, Music, Sports, Mountaineering, and Rock Climbing). I’ve tried to make writing experiences more “authentic” by tying them to these topics and activities. With themes that are more experiential (such as rock climbing), students can engage in authentic writing by “reflecting on the experience, building a conceptual framework from the reflection, and then applying this new knowledge to other scenarios, problems, or questions” (158). But for the less experience-based classes, I need to work more on creating authentic occasions for writing.

One obvious way to achieve writing experiences that are authentic (experiential, research-based, and immersive) would be to connect Comp with our first-year seminar class – Tackling a Wicked Problem. Despite the logistical challenges, I’m pretty sure this work is already being piloted, and I hope to be a bigger part of this work in the future.

Speaking of the future, it’s really hard for me to imagine what that might look like for our university right now. It seems misguided to plan for a future that looks anything like the past. While that’s terrifying to me in many ways, I’m taking some comfort in the avalanche of articles and social media posts that are centering empathy and compassion as our main responsibilities as educators right now, and I’m grateful that our university is modeling that approach, even at the highest levels of administration. I hope that this shift is the start of a revolution in higher education that centers the real, lived experiences of our learners (and educators, 70% of whom are not on the tenure track). I found the epigraph from the start of this chapter to be extraordinarily apt for our times: 

We have cast our lot with learning, and learning will pull us through. But this learning process must be reimbued with the texture and feeling of human experiences shared and interpreted through dialogue with one another.

David A. Kolb, Experiential Learning: Experience as the Source of Learning and Development

I hope that learning will pull us through, and I look forward to continued dialogue as we remake the world on the other side of all this.

Radical Kindness

A reflection on Season 1 of Plymouth State University’s Cluster Pedagogy Learning Community, Summer, 2019.

Being part of the CPLC is the most meaningful work I’ve done here at PSU (outside of working directly with students). The opportunity to collaborate with faculty and staff from all over campus has helped me to understand the lives and learning of my own students more fully. I’ve appreciated the opportunity to speak directly with the President about goals and visions for the university, and I am grateful that the voices of our students (especially Jess C) have been included (and I hope that we can hear more from them in future CPLC work).

Over the course of the summer, I’ve been deeply moved by the hard work, dedication, and brilliance of my colleagues. Our conversations and reflections have wrestled with tough questions about pedagogy, humanity, and the academy, and they’ve been invaluable in the development of my own thinking. These conversations will change the way I approach teaching this fall in several ways. First, I plan to encourage students to cultivate and explore their own curiosity by creating flexibility and space in assignments wherever I can. I hope this space will also allow students to make their own connections within and between their classes and their lives. Second, I want my students to be excited about knowledge, not fearful of grades, so I will encourage them to demonstrate their learning in ways that make sense to them, by creating artifacts of learning that can live beyond the classroom. I also plan to take responsibility for sharing some of the ideas highlighted in the CPLC with other instructors, especially our many dedicated TLs. I plan to encourage as many TLs as possible to join next year’s CPLC, as they have a great deal of experience and knowledge to share with the rest of us. Finally, from this fall forward I will focus more on making my courses more accessible, as I have now internalized the voice of Hannah Davidson, our own Jiminy Cricket of accessibility (and I mean this in the BEST and most grateful way possible, as Hannah is a TREASURE and we’re so lucky to have her).

Perhaps most importantly, I am deeply appreciative of the way that Robin and Cathie (and Hannah and Matt and so many others in the CPLC) have centered empathy and compassion as foundational to the experience of learning and growing. We have the enormous responsibility of teaching these young (and often not-so-young) humans the skills they’ll need to live and thrive in a swiftly changing and increasingly challenging world, and I believe strongly that radical kindness is a critical part of this work, especially for students who are marginalized (in one way or in many) or who haven’t found this kind of support elsewhere in their lives. It’s incredibly validating to see this philosophy reflected in the work we’re doing in the CPLC.

Finally, I’m filled with gratitude for Robin and Cathie’s leadership. I don’t know if we’re still doing nautical metaphors, but it feels as though, after being a bit adrift, we’ve been given a guiding light, that the CPLC is a safe harbor where we’ve been able to take stock, resupply, and recalibrate our navigational tools so that we can continue on our journey to transform the way students learn at PSU. I feel very hopeful about the direction we’re headed.

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Cluster Learning at Plymouth State: A Community-Based Approach to Pedagogy is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted. Originally published here: https://cluster-learning-at-plymouth-state.press.plymouth.edu/ .

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