You Just Don't Understand… (Chapter 5: "I'll Explain It to You") - Tannen
This chapter is pretty brilliant, as it explains the phenomenon of "man-splaining" a good twenty years before the term had cultural cache. This is of particular interest to me, because I recognize my own tendency to want to explain things, or to be in a position of authority when it comes to sharing information. It's an odd thing, because I was cultured into man-splaining by my father (who is one of the best communicators I've ever known) and only in the last few years have I even come to realize that this is a "thing".
What complicates matters is that I've always wanted to teach in some capacity, and part of that desire is linked to the sense of connection I feel when I'm lecturing or teaching on a certain topic. I don't think it's particularly megalomaniacal for me; I really do think it's about connection, but also undeniably about power. And natural aptitude: I have always been good at communicating ideas and information, and I have always been in positions of leadership throughout my life. But I am only now starting to recognize that my love of teaching is not unrelated to the feeling of empowerment. The question I find difficult to navigate is this: how do I allow the positive dimensions of empowerment into my own relationship to teaching without allowing things to spill over into a quest for power rooted in ego and dominance?
I've always been a man-splainer, even before I was a man. But I am coming to recognize how harmful and patriarchal this tendency is, and I'm trying to be modestly self-critical about it. It's a delicate balance: in my classroom, as the recognized person of power (and knowledge), it is expected that I take on a social role as explainer (teacher) - but are there moments when I over-teach? Or when I talk too much, when allowing students to explore ideas for themselves may prove the better pedagogical model? Well: yes, I do. But how can I become aware of those moments, and what are other strategies to foster intellectual curiosity that allow more room for self-discovery rather than a purely asymmetric discourse?
Tannen's chapter is brilliant, as it draws attention to the power dynamics of the communication of knowledge. I'm particularly interested in the patterns it reveals to me in my personal life (!), which don't pertain to this paper in any direct way. But I think the most important thing I can learn from this is the importance of active listening - both in and beyond the classroom - and that there are ways to encourage female students to not be shy about their own areas of knowledge and expertise.
Sunday, March 1, 2015
You Just Don't Understand: Women and Men in Conversation - Deborah Tannen
One of the most useful distinctions introduced in this book is the idea that men often think in terms of hierarchy while women often think in terms of connection. Though I would have never thought about my teaching in these terms, it certainly seems to be true that I often emphasize "rightness" in class discussions more than I would probably like to admit.
I was thinking about this today while I was doing dishes: what do you do in a class discussion when someone raises a particularly offensive perspective (racist, sexist, homophobic, etc)? A friend of mine said that she once shut down an entire conversation because a student of hers said something particularly misogynistic, and her reaction was to say, "That offends me. You are not allowed to talk like that in this classroom." When she told me this she was proud, and I was incredibly bothered - annoyed - by her attitude. It shut down the conversation, which, to her, was the appropriate action.
I would like to think that, faced with the same situation, I would allow space for that person to express himself or herself. At first glance, this makes me feel superior to my friend, as my classroom is a space for freedom. I think the ideal outcome of the situation would be that other students in the room would speak up and counter the offensive comment with intelligent commentary and confrontation. But what happens if the students don't take care of it themselves?
My reaction would be to one-up the offending student myself, offering a corrective. But is this necessarily a better strategy than the one my friend employed? I'm not sure.
In some ways, the two strategies (and my negative reaction to the strategy of my friend) can be understood in the terms that Tannen provides: when a student voices a particularly ignorant perspective, I feel morally obligated to make sure that this perspective is shoved to the bottom of the hierarchy of ideas. My friend, on the other hand, would rather silence a conversation than allow part of it to wander into dicey territory. This is a different way of trying to protect the classroom and the students in it - one that conceives of the discussion more in terms of interconnection than hierarchy.
The most important thing, for me, to take away from Tannen is the understanding that it's not necessarily about whose strategy is better (mine or my friend's), but that we're thinking about the fabric of classroom discussion in fundamentally different ways. Even my instinct to rate whose strategy is better seems hierarchical and competitive.
One of the most useful distinctions introduced in this book is the idea that men often think in terms of hierarchy while women often think in terms of connection. Though I would have never thought about my teaching in these terms, it certainly seems to be true that I often emphasize "rightness" in class discussions more than I would probably like to admit.
I was thinking about this today while I was doing dishes: what do you do in a class discussion when someone raises a particularly offensive perspective (racist, sexist, homophobic, etc)? A friend of mine said that she once shut down an entire conversation because a student of hers said something particularly misogynistic, and her reaction was to say, "That offends me. You are not allowed to talk like that in this classroom." When she told me this she was proud, and I was incredibly bothered - annoyed - by her attitude. It shut down the conversation, which, to her, was the appropriate action.
I would like to think that, faced with the same situation, I would allow space for that person to express himself or herself. At first glance, this makes me feel superior to my friend, as my classroom is a space for freedom. I think the ideal outcome of the situation would be that other students in the room would speak up and counter the offensive comment with intelligent commentary and confrontation. But what happens if the students don't take care of it themselves?
My reaction would be to one-up the offending student myself, offering a corrective. But is this necessarily a better strategy than the one my friend employed? I'm not sure.
In some ways, the two strategies (and my negative reaction to the strategy of my friend) can be understood in the terms that Tannen provides: when a student voices a particularly ignorant perspective, I feel morally obligated to make sure that this perspective is shoved to the bottom of the hierarchy of ideas. My friend, on the other hand, would rather silence a conversation than allow part of it to wander into dicey territory. This is a different way of trying to protect the classroom and the students in it - one that conceives of the discussion more in terms of interconnection than hierarchy.
The most important thing, for me, to take away from Tannen is the understanding that it's not necessarily about whose strategy is better (mine or my friend's), but that we're thinking about the fabric of classroom discussion in fundamentally different ways. Even my instinct to rate whose strategy is better seems hierarchical and competitive.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
"Creating the Nonsexist Classroom: A Multicultural
Approach"
Theresa Mickey McCormick
This book was cited quite a bit in the literature I’d
perused, so I was curious to check it out. It’s pretty dated, which I suppose
is the catch 22 of something oft-cited from the 90s, but it still had a few
good things to offer.
To be honest, the thing I found most worthwhile with this book was a bit of confirmation. Most of what McCormick had to say (and I only really read Chapter Three “Nonsexist, Culturally Inclusive Instruction: Issues and Strategies”) seemed really obvious to me. Which, at first, made me question the value of the book. But the more I thought about it, the more I gave myself a bit of credit: as a book published in the nineties, it devotes a lot of its time to explaining why instructors need to be conscientious about how they treat their students, especially when it comes to issues of gender and culture. It seems that in the 20 years since the book was published, we’ve all come a long ways, culturally, when it comes to even acknowledging the importance of cultural sensitivity. And that’s a good thing.
There was an entire section devoted to why an instructor needs to pay attention to her students: to be sure to treat them fairly, to listen to them, and to work to genuinely meet them where they’re at. I try to do that. McCormick talks a lot about an instructor being honest with herself about her own biases and prejudices, which is something I’ve become much more invested in.
I came away feeling encouraged, mostly, because McCormick, while offering a few practical in-class strategies, mostly wants to say that just trying makes a big difference. And I suppose I am.
To be honest, the thing I found most worthwhile with this book was a bit of confirmation. Most of what McCormick had to say (and I only really read Chapter Three “Nonsexist, Culturally Inclusive Instruction: Issues and Strategies”) seemed really obvious to me. Which, at first, made me question the value of the book. But the more I thought about it, the more I gave myself a bit of credit: as a book published in the nineties, it devotes a lot of its time to explaining why instructors need to be conscientious about how they treat their students, especially when it comes to issues of gender and culture. It seems that in the 20 years since the book was published, we’ve all come a long ways, culturally, when it comes to even acknowledging the importance of cultural sensitivity. And that’s a good thing.
There was an entire section devoted to why an instructor needs to pay attention to her students: to be sure to treat them fairly, to listen to them, and to work to genuinely meet them where they’re at. I try to do that. McCormick talks a lot about an instructor being honest with herself about her own biases and prejudices, which is something I’ve become much more invested in.
I came away feeling encouraged, mostly, because McCormick, while offering a few practical in-class strategies, mostly wants to say that just trying makes a big difference. And I suppose I am.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
"Why Doesn't This Feel Empowering? Working Through the Repressive Myths of Critical Pedagogy"
Elizabeth Ellsworth
1989
This article challenges the underlying assumptions of critical pedagogy. Specifically, it targets the rationalist assumptions and modes of discourse common in the practice of critical pedagogy which reinforce the very systems of oppression that critical pedagogy seeks to challenge.
Ellsworth details her experience at the University of Wisconsin-Madison during a particularly turbulent time in the late 80s when a fraternity on campus caused outrage by constructing a racist effigy for a themed party. In an attempt to address the event, and the broader context of race relations both on campus and beyond, Ellsworth created a course that sought to create dialogue for interested parties.
In practice, she found that she and her students brought many assumptions into the classroom about what terms like "empowerment," "student voice," "dialogue," and "critical reflection" actually mean. Though these concepts are rooted in a framework which acknowledges and seeks to displace authoritarian structures, Ellsworth argues that these terms (all central to critical pedagogy) actually reinforce those structures implicitly.
One of the most interesting responses that Ellsworth proposes to her dilemma is the acceptance of unknowability; that neither she nor her students were capable of fully "understanding" the phenomenon of racism in its totality, as each individuals' perspective is undeniable limited. Instead, she proposes a shared state of "knowing" that affirms two apparent dialogic contradictions simultaneously: "you know me/I know you"even as "you can't know me/I can't know you."
This will be a useful study for my paper, as it is centrally concerned with the problem of privilege and in proposing strategies to deal with it in the classroom.
Elizabeth Ellsworth
1989
This article challenges the underlying assumptions of critical pedagogy. Specifically, it targets the rationalist assumptions and modes of discourse common in the practice of critical pedagogy which reinforce the very systems of oppression that critical pedagogy seeks to challenge.
Ellsworth details her experience at the University of Wisconsin-Madison during a particularly turbulent time in the late 80s when a fraternity on campus caused outrage by constructing a racist effigy for a themed party. In an attempt to address the event, and the broader context of race relations both on campus and beyond, Ellsworth created a course that sought to create dialogue for interested parties.
In practice, she found that she and her students brought many assumptions into the classroom about what terms like "empowerment," "student voice," "dialogue," and "critical reflection" actually mean. Though these concepts are rooted in a framework which acknowledges and seeks to displace authoritarian structures, Ellsworth argues that these terms (all central to critical pedagogy) actually reinforce those structures implicitly.
One of the most interesting responses that Ellsworth proposes to her dilemma is the acceptance of unknowability; that neither she nor her students were capable of fully "understanding" the phenomenon of racism in its totality, as each individuals' perspective is undeniable limited. Instead, she proposes a shared state of "knowing" that affirms two apparent dialogic contradictions simultaneously: "you know me/I know you"even as "you can't know me/I can't know you."
This will be a useful study for my paper, as it is centrally concerned with the problem of privilege and in proposing strategies to deal with it in the classroom.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)