bell hooks |
"The academy is not paradise. But learning is a place where paradise can be created. The classroom with all its limitations remains a location of possibility. In that field of possibility we have the opportunity to labour for freedom, to demand of ourselves and our comrades, an openness of mind and heart that allows us to face reality even as we collectively imagine ways to move beyond boundaries, to transgress. This is education as the practice of freedom." (bell hooks, Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom)
I love how she presents the idea that a true learning paradise is one where we don't ignore the realities of our world outside of the classroom, but instead face these realities in order to imagine and discuss the ways that we can move past our differences and our "boundaries."
For one year I taught both English (grade 11) and Journalism (grades 10-12). It was an interesting year juggling the two disciplines, and the writing requirements for each were very different. In the English classes, both college prep and basic levels, I focused on research papers, literary criticism, and the infamous five-paragraph theme. On the other hand, in Journalism, where I was completely free from the pressures of standardized testing and a strict curriculum, my students chose their own topics, experimented with style, took risks, and delved into the controversial topics of race, class, sexual preference, and gender. My Journalism classroom was one in which my students and I negotiated topics and there was much more “social interaction” and collaboration to “find a best path,” similar to how Freedman describes the traditions in the British classrooms of her 1985 study. However, my English class resembled the U.S. classrooms where teachers “expected everyone in the class to engage in the same teacher-assigned activities.” In Journalism, we chose topics that were, as George and Trimbur describe, “right under our noses, in the culture of everyday life.” My student journalists were trying to find stories that related not only to what they were experiencing in their lives, but also to what their peers were experiencing, and each student tackled a topic that interested them, related to them, and challenged them. On the other hand, all of my English students in the college prep section were writing reaction papers to The Scarlet Letter and all those in the general section were writing five paragraphs in response to a PSSA writing prompt. Looking back, I wish I had brought more of the spirit of the Journalism class into the English classes, infusing them with authentic and relevant assignments that sometimes also explored class, race, and gender.
However, the articles this week, particularly George and Trimbur’s “Cultural Studies and Composition,” also brought up valid critiques. For example, I can see the truth in Gary Tate’s comment that “the desire to find a ‘content’ for composition can all too easily lead to the neglect of writing.” If too much attention is paid to finding topics and discussing cultural differences, precious time may be taken away from giving students the opportunities to practice and improve their writing. I agreed somewhat with Maxine Hairston’s suggestion that “the way for writing courses to become responsibly multicultural is not through the course content the teacher assigns but through the diversity of life experiences reflected in the students’ writing.” Although this may suffice in an inner-city classroom where the students are culturally diverse, there won’t be the same variety in an all white, middle-class, suburban classroom. For those students, it seems that it would be beneficial for the teacher and students to choose content for readings or topics for writing that bring in diverse and multicultural perspectives. I think it is important for teachers not to submit to the view that Brodkey describes as one “that insists that the classroom is a separate world of its own, in which teachers and students relate to one another undistracted by the classism, racism, and sexism that rage outside the classroom.” Again, there must be a middle ground between ignoring the outside world and becoming overwhelmed by it. I think we need to be honest about these issues and create the “safe environment” that Freedman describes, where teachers encourage “students to take the ‘risks’ that are necessary to learn to think independently and to speak honestly." Continued research on this topic will be invaluable to composition pedagogy, and I like that Freedman’s article emphasizes the importance of “teacher research” in collaboration with “university research” because who better to “shed light” on the problem than those in the trenches, those who are teaching “urban youth in multicultural settings.”
Finally, I just want to add one quick comment about the Lynn reading, which I again found informative and interesting. In his advice to “read, read, read,” I completely agree that “in far too many classrooms, students are spending long stretches of time struggling to read through a work that is ill-suited for their abilities and their imaginations.” I know that requiring all my students to read The Scarlet Letter in its entirety was in no way helping them write more “fluently, correctly” or “effectively.” Instead—what an idea—allowing students to read different selections! Some of my colleagues would have fainted at the thought.
I'm fascinated by the difference between your English and Journalism classes. Though I'm sure it was at times stressful, it's given you a great perspective that not many teachers get. Thank you for sharing it!
ReplyDeleteI sounds like your Journalism class really created a great opportunity for students to explore their talents. It's rare that we get to escape the constraints of PSSA test prep and just write! It sounds like you really allowed your students to enjoy their writing!
ReplyDelete"I completely agree that "“in far too many classrooms, students are spending long stretches of time struggling to read through a work that is ill-suited for their abilities and their imaginations.”"
ReplyDeleteI whole-heartedly agree with this excerpt from your post. Just last week I had a junior English Education student observe my classroom for the day. When I asked her about what compelled her to become an English teacher, she spoke of her love for Shakespeare and her desire to "share that passion with students." She was a very sweet girl, and may make an excellent teacher someday, but I was silently screaming in my head at how idealistic her response was. I remember being so idealistic and thinking teaching English was going to consist of reading and responding to literature via writing and discussion. I know a few teachers in my department who are still trying desperately to cling to that rose-colored notion of the job.
The reality is that we need to teach students to enjoy reading and writing and speaking and listening, and to understand that these things serve a real purpose in our society, and can help them to achieve their life (educational and career) goals. It is nice to incorporate what I love into what I'm teaching, but what I love cannot be what sustains my professional satisfaction and gratification. In the high school, we are teachers of reading, not specific literature. We are teachers of writing, not the five paragraph essay - you get my drift.We have to provide access to a wide variety of texts that are relevant to, and readable by, our students if we are to ever expect them to share our love of canonical classics. (Have you ever asked yourself why you love them?)
I wanted to tell Kelsey what it's really like and try to ascertain whether she would embrace the real reason for teaching (the one that little or nothing to do with who my favorite author or writer is), but I was want to shatter her beautiful, rose-tinted, Shakespearean perception.