Creating Your Course Syllabus

It was helpful to read James M. Lang’s discussion on how to construct your syllabus in his book On Course. There is one point, however, that I would like to elaborate on. Under the section titled “Contact Information,” Lang proposes the possibility of including your home or cell phone number on your course syllabus. He does say that it is not necessary but that from his own experience, including a personal phone number “demonstrates to the students your eagerness to help them learn” (4). Lang does not mention the stakes of giving students your phone number, only that you may not want to be interrupted on a Friday evening…of course, it can get worse than a simple “interruption” (3).

Personally, I think you are more likely to come across issues with this than it could prove to be helpful. I am completely against giving students your home or cell number. There are other ways to foster strong teacher-student relationships than to put yourself at risk of any kind. I had an awful experience with this as an undergraduate. I took a history course with a new professor in the department who included his cell phone number on his syllabus. He encouraged us to use it, especially if he is not responding to emails (he said a text will remind him to respond). During a hectic time of the semester when this professor was not responding to an important email of mine, I decided I would send a text message with a friendly reminder that I had emailed him several days ago. A few hours later, I received one of the rudest and most unprofessional messages from a professor. His response was something like “I don’t include my cell number on my syllabus so that students can abuse the privilege. Do not text me again, you’ve lost your right to do so.” I was completely shocked and hurt – I had no idea why he would respond this way when he had encouraged students to text him with reminders regarding emails. I was not being a pest; I was simply sending a friendly reminder. I even waited a few days before texting him in order to give him enough time to respond to my email. When the weekend was coming to an end and I needed an answer before the next class began, so I decided I would reach out some other way. Of course, I did not respond to his text; I spoke to him in person, instead. He apologized profusely for his response and said that he was not in the right state of mind. I honestly think he was intoxicated when he replied because he was always so friendly and caring in person.

This experience taught me what a disaster could come out of it giving students your phone number. I want to save both my students and myself the trouble that could arise from this. We have “personal lives” too, and keeping students as far away from these personal interactions as possible will be best. Instructors should simply keep up with their emails and respond to students in a timely manner (whatever is stated on the syllabus). Encourage students to see you during office hours (even make a few meetings mandatory, for instance, to ensure they’ll visit you and get the help they need); stay after class if you’re able and answer questions to demonstrate to students you really do care about their learning and success. There are many ways to appear “available” and “normal channels” of communication are sufficient enough! (4).

Building Empathy and Understanding in the College Classroom

In “Reading Outside the Boundaries: Children’s Literature as Pedagogy For Building Empathy and Understanding of Social Justice in the College Classroom,” Theresa M. Bouley and Phoebe C. Godfrey discuss the role of children’s literature in the college classroom “as a means of enabling students to address difficult topics such as issues of oppression and social justice in a manner that is less overwhelming and less threatening” (33). Bouley and Godfrey argue that it is “nearly impossible” to engage students in discussion when the topics discussed or information presented to them is “intellectually intense” (33). It is challenging for students to express their feelings because they are “often left feeling shocked and overwrought” (34). Bouley and Godfrey insist that “whole group read-alouds” of the texts “proved to be an effective tool to help students take the risk of confronting and knowing their own personal views and then make powerful connections to those of others” (33).

Bouley and Godfrey’s article is split into three sections. The first section, titled “Power of Stories,” discusses the effects children’s books have on students and their ability to elicit powerful and emotional responses. Bouley and Godfrey address the issue of “sympathy” in the college classroom and insist that in the past, encouraging students to express sympathy was not encouraged. Activities of analysis, logical reasoning, and debate, for example, were “prioritized and revered as purely intellectual and masculine” (35). Nonetheless, Bouley and Godfrey feel compelled to address Daniel Goleman’s calls for a “new vision of what schools can do to educate the whole student, bringing together mind and heart in the classroom” (35). Based on discussions and reflection assignments in Bouley and Godfrey’s own classrooms, students have made deep connections to the issues in the children’s books they have read. Bouley and Godfrey say, “It was apparent in these class discussions and student written reflections that reading children’s literature helped these students to make deep connections. It helped them to discuss their beliefs, experiences, and feelings in a way that was authentic, honest, and at times raw” (35). This allowed students to connect their experiences to those of others, which Bouley and Godfrey argue is the basis of empathy. Children’s literature “allowed these students to think more critically and empathetically about their views and biases” (35). Bouley and Godfrey say, “[t]hese honest, open discussions stemming from children’s literature heightened students’ awareness, self-reflection, and compassion” (35). They cite one of their student’s reactions to reading Home of the Brave: “Until I felt sorry for the little Japanese-American boy in that book I hadn’t felt concerned at all about how we have been treating Arab-Americans” (35). Bouley and Godfrey’s students saw themselves as “change agents when confronted with both historical and current examples of racism and oppression as opposed to their initial expressions of ‘apathy and powerlessness’” (35).

In the second section, titled “From Story to Theory,” Bouley and Godfrey say, “a vital part of our pedagogical mission is to aid our students in developing what Goleman calls ‘emotional competence’” which “combines the two abilities of empathy (heart) and social skills (mind)” in order to “enable students to read and be open to others’ feelings on issues that are often socially and pedagogically silenced because of their difficult content” (37). Bouley and Godfrey argue that because college classrooms are becoming more culturally diverse, it is not enough that students engage in “intellectual learning about ‘others’” and that instructors “merely teach about social justice issues,” but that “we must allow students to actively engage with how they feel about such issues in ways that are non-confrontational and non-threatening. It is only then that students acknowledge the role they play in being part of the problem as well as feel empowered to be part of the solution” (36). In order for this to happen, teachers must create non-hierarchal classroom environments, one that is open to all feelings and perspectives and is accepting of diverse student experiences. When using children’s literature, Bouley and Godfrey found that getting responses from students that show emotional competence was a lot easier. They argue that reading children’s literature “liberates [students] to be child-like again, and gives them permission to open their hearts and thus their minds” (37).

In the third section, titled “From Theory to Practice,” Bouley and Godfrey insist that they do not want to set any specific methodology for using children’s books in the college classroom. The way in which they choose particular books at certain times and in certain ways depends on “the needs and energy of the class, the students, and of course ourselves” (38). They do insist that we give students “the autonomy to go wherever the story takes them” and create a safe environment to “facilitate both their thinking and feeling” (38).

Bouley and Godfrey end their article by reminding us that reading children’s literature out loud caused their students to write “insightful reflections that demonstrated how the text affected their learning about course content, themselves, and the world” (39).

My Response:

I really enjoyed reading Bouley and Godfrey’s article. It reminded me of Elaine Showalter’s discussion on teaching difficult subjects in her book Teaching Literature. Showalter insists that teachers should address emotionally charged subjects rather than overlook them. Showalter uses lectures on sensitive subjects as an opportunity to “educate and inform [her] students” (Showalter 127). Bouley and Godfrey make several points that I really appreciate. The first has to do with encouraging students to discuss their feelings towards issues in children’s literature, and second, using literature as means of heightening social awareness, and in turn, creating more empathetic students. It is through my studies in English literature that I have learned so much about the social injustices that exist in our world. In reading about social injustices characters face in novels, I was able to draw connections to the oppression that exists in our world today. These connections caused me to be a more critically aware and empathetic human being. These experiences in reading and discussing literature were invaluable to me.

We often think of the college classroom as a place where logical and critical thinking takes place devoid of emotion. But this is untrue; we cannot always wholly separate our “mind” and our “heart,” nor should we. When we first read a piece of literature, before we come to any critical conclusion, we are often dealing with our emotional responses to the text. I think this is a great place to start a discussion. Ask students how they feel towards the text and encourage them to be open and honest. This openness and honesty can then lead to a discussion on why they feel the way they do, which in turn, can expose a lot of our personal biases and then allow us to learn more about the perspectives of others. Starting with a discussion on emotional responses will elicit discussions on critical responses, which will expose the underlying significance/implication of the text in question.

Also, using literature as a way to heighten social awareness to injustices and oppression is something that I would like to emulate in my own classroom. I am not saying that a teacher’s job is to create political activists but literature, in encompassing the worst and best of human capabilities, can teach us so much about ourselves and about our world. Why not use literature as means of introducing students to experiences, ideologies, beliefs, etc., that are not their own so that they become more socially conscious human beings? What they choose to do with this knowledge is ultimately their own decision, but presenting students with texts that deal with issues of social injustices and oppression can allow them to question their own inherent biases and ultimately allow them to gain a larger view of the world and the array of perspectives within it.

Also, allowing students to discuss their emotions towards a text encourages them to discuss issues that can be often ignored because of their intensity. Difficult topics should not be ignored in the college classroom; they should be discussed in a safe and open environment. The type of self-realization students may come to from discussing these issues can change their lives without us even knowing it. Sometimes it is through discussing their reactions to literature that allow students to discover their own misconceptions. We tend to think of college as the place of self-discovery and the literature classroom can offer exactly that; self-discovery can allow students to make critical and compassionate choices in the world. Bouley and Godfrey’s students saw themselves as “change agents” as opposed to their initial expressions of “‘apathy and powerlessness’” (35). In encouraging students to discuss their feelings and beliefs, it can cause them to become more empathetic and aware of others’ beliefs and emotions.

I also like their attention to children’s literature as a vehicle for such change. Bouley and Godfrey, from experience, say that they were more likely to elicit “emotional competence” from their students through using children’s literature rather than other theoretical or difficult texts. I like that they read the texts aloud – I think this creates a more emotionally inclined environment because it heightens the experience of reading, which might ultimately encourage students to discuss their feelings more openly. Also, asking students to reflect on their experiences with reading the texts is something I would like to emulate in my own classroom as well. Reflections will allow students to draw deep connections with the texts, themselves, and the world around them.

Students as People

In “Week 8: Students as People” in On Course, James M. Lang offers practical advice for teachers dealing with students who may be going through some trying times. Lang draws our awareness to the fact that while we may be wholly invested in our course, we cannot expect students to do the same; the course we are teaching only occupies a small space in our students’ lives. I do like that Lang addresses this because as teachers we can get carried away with thinking that our students should invest just as much time in our course as we do as instructors. We shouldn’t forget that they are taking other classes, and may even be struggling with familial or other personal, difficult issues. So while it’s important to keep in mind that our course does not stand at the center of our students’ lives, we need also consider how we will deal with students who, because of personal problems or not, are lacking in effort.

Lang makes an important point. While we may want to quickly modify our course to cater to our students’ various hardships, we should not. Lang says that unless students confess to a personal problem, they may actually be lacking academically in our classroom because they are wasting time partying or playing x-box (182). Lang says that we should keep in mind all possibilities – that students may be partying the night before an assignment is due, or perhaps their mother is dying. Because we cannot know this, we should adhere to our classroom standards that are set fort in our syllabus. Nonetheless, if a student confesses a personal hardship of theirs to you, then you can accommodate by modifying an assignment or deadline date. Lang says that we should resist the temptation to get angry or motivate students with threats; we could be worsening an already difficult situation. Be firm, but courteous and stick to your standards.

Lang also offers some practical advice on how to deal with students who do confess their personal problems to you. Some students will tell you their story and stop there, while others will tell you their story and seek advice from you as well. Lang says we should resist the temptation to offer counsel. We don’t know the complexity of the students’ situation, so we might actually be harming them more than we are helping them. Also, we could be putting our professional lives at risk. We could get accused of sexual harassment, for example, and lose our jobs. Lang suggests that we

1. Record every unordinary interaction you have with a student (save emails, write down dates you met with student/substance of the conversation).
2. Never meet students in your office behind a closed door. It invites students to discuss things outside of school.

I really liked reading Lang’s discussion in this chapter and he offers practical advice that I would implement myself. While we may want to extend our sympathies to students who are going through hardships by offering our advice, we are putting our students and ourselves at risk when we do so. I like that Lang still acknowledges that we don’t need to be cold-hearted either; we should listen to our students, but what is best for them and us, is to direct them to counsels in the university who are the experts.

Assignments: Late Work

James M. Lang discusses assignments and grading in “week 6” of his book On Course. He focuses a little on late student work, an issue that I have been grappling with since I started teaching. My policy is that I do not accept late work unless a new due date was confirmed with me prior to the deadline. The issue I have come across regarding late assignments has to do with electronic submissions. I require my students to turn their work in through Blackboard because that is where I grade. I usually do not have any issues with this but sometimes students email me saying they were unable to submit an assignment because of Blackboard complications. I have warned students from the very beginning that if something happens with Blackboard and they are unable to submit their work, to attach their assignment through email so I know they have it in on time. Recently, I entered a 0 in my grade-book for a student who did not turn an assignment in. He emailed me about a week after the assignment was due and said he was confused because he really had turned the assignment in before the deadline and doesn’t understand why it now shows up that he hasn’t submitted it. I allowed the student to “resubmit,” although somewhat reluctantly. I wasn’t sure whether I should have told the student that it’s too late and he needs to be more responsible (like checking back to make sure his work was submitted) or trust that he had no reason to assume the work wasn’t submitted and this was Blackboard’s fault, entirely. To be honest, I am not much of a stickler; I tend to have a more laid back teaching persona just because I think it makes things simpler for me not to stress over every little detail. But, I thought about ways I could avoid technical problems like this and considered asking students in the future to turn in physical copies of their work alongside submitting electronic versions. But this also bothers me because I’ll have stacks of paper that I will not even grade or look that…I’ll just end up throwing them out at the end of the semester, too.

Another concern is whether I should have allowed the student to resubmit but still penalize it for being turned in late, regardless of whether it was intentional or not. Lang cites Ken Bain who argues that penalizing late work “puts an undue emphasis on the assignment as a performance, as opposed to seeing assignments as a learning experience” (136). He argues that if a student is willing to do extra work on an assignment and will learn more from it, “does it make sense to penalize a student” who turns it in late? (136). If I had an ideal classroom and my students actually desired to turn in a larger project than expected of them, then I absolutely would not mind giving students a few extra days. It’s a learning experience for them and I would encourage it. But, in my experience, students who have asked me for a few more days to work on a project haven’t even started on it at all (they did not turn drafts in, for example). Bain essentially argues that teaching students to adhere to deadlines in the classroom does not mean they will do so in the real world. But there are practical reasons for not wanting students to turn in late work (aside from Lang’s discussion on fostering future upstanding citizens). Teachers have busy schedules too and we set aside hours and hours for grading and allowing students to just turn their work in any time they wish without penalty will just get in the way of us successfully completing our own work. I remember once giving my students until the end of the semester to submit a revision of an assignment and when the semester was over, only a few out of twenty-four students turned a revision in (even though many of them did not do so well). When I assigned a deadline date the next time around, more than half of the students who needed to revise the assignment turned in a revision. Giving them stricter assignment rules encouraged them to get the work in and in the end, improved their learning (which I can assess by the improvement in their work). This is not to say that I don’t believe in flexibility when it comes to teaching or that there are exceptions to the rules I set forth, but that in my experience so far, assigning deadline dates and adhering to them forces students to make better decisions and ultimately makes my job easier.

Teaching Sensitive Subjects

In Teaching Literature, Elaine Showalter draws our attention to sensitive subjects taught or avoided in the literature classroom. In chapter 9, titled “Teaching Dangerous Subjects,” Showalter raises the question of how should literature instructors teach emotionally charged texts. She says, “the awareness literature teachers bring to representations of race, dialect, and ethnicity does not usually extend to the many other difficult subjects literature presents, and sometimes romanticizes” (126). Thus, Showalter devotes this chapter to discussing other difficult subjects like “suicide” and “explicit sexual language.”

Showalter says, “[t]he most dangerous of the dangerous subjects is suicide” (126). She cites Jeffrey Berman who poses several important questions: “Does a fictional character’s suicide awaken the same emotions within us as a real character’s suicide? What are the conditions in which a reader’s identification with a suicidal character my lead to heightened vulnerability? In an age when the suicide rate has jumped dramatically, does a story’s glorification of suicide pose special dangers to readers? If so, can we identify those who may be at risk and take appropriate measures to avert a tragedy?” (127). All of these are vital questions that I think force us to consider the importance of “awareness” as a teacher. We may never know what experiences our students bring into the classroom or what feelings and thoughts are evoked during class lectures/discussion, but being aware of the reality that students do not necessarily shut off their personal selves when entering the class is important. Showalter dislikes the idea of avoiding discussions on sensitive subjects. Instead, she uses lectures on sensitive subjects, like suicide, as an opportunity to “educate and inform [her] students” (127). Showalter even recognized that one of her own students was suicidal and so was able to talk to them about it. She quotes Berman who says, “‘teachers are not trained to be therapists, but they inadvertently confirm the stigma attached to suicide by avoiding appropriate discussions’” (127).

I agree with Showalter that teachers should address emotionally charged issues, rather than “overlook the sensitivity of content,” but I can also understand a teacher’s anxiety in doing so (126). No matter how cautious you might be in approaching sensitive subjects, you cant be sure that you wont unintentionally offend or hurt a student. I wonder how we can combat some of these concerns. Showalter offers a useful technique: “One important principle is candor and clear labeling – telling students in advance that they may be offended or upset; contextualizing the topic with some sociological or historical background; being prepared for some students to be shocked or upset no matter what you do, and allowing opportunities for them to respond” (126). I think the last bit is very useful – sometimes just making the classroom comfortable enough for students to express their reactions helps in dealing with sensitive subjects. Even though I am concerned that I won’t know how to react to students’ emotional outburst (which I’ve experienced several times teaching English 1020), an encouraging classroom environment may even inspire students to respond to and console one another. I also like Showalter’s suggestion that we tell students ahead of time that they may be offended or upset over certain subjects. I would also respect students who decide not to attend a class discussion because the subject discussed is just too personally painful for them.

Teaching Fiction in Elaine Showalter’s Teaching Literature

In Teaching Literature, Elaine Showalter devotes a chapter on “Teaching Fiction,” with focus on the novel. Showalter explains that novels can be taught in a variety of contexts. Showalter discusses some of the obstacles instructors face in teaching the novel and offers some of her own interesting teaching practices. Because my hope is to teach novels in the future, I found this chapter to be especially useful.

Showalter explains that “because they find the narrative familiar…students respond more readily to fiction than to other genres” (89). Nonetheless, there are some obstacles that instructors face when teaching novels to students. One of these concerns is novel length. Showalter says that because students have off campus jobs, are registered in other courses, and have other personal distractions, instructors can’t assume that students have read the whole assigned novel. Showalter offers several solutions for this. She suggests that instructors assign a number of pages by a given date rather than the entire novel. My only undergraduate professor who did this was an eighteenth-century specialist and he only assigned a number of pages when the novel was especially long. While this does cater to students’ busy schedules, I think it can still be a setback when it comes to discussing major themes in the novel. The concern I have with splitting the pages is that events that occur in the first half of the novel may be better explicated by discussing what happens in the second half when things begin to “unfold.” Perhaps an instructor is interested in teaching character development; assigning a specific number of pages may hinder the effectiveness of this discussion. Depending on the instructor’s goal, assigning the entire novel may allow for a richer learning session (regardless of its length or students’ hectic schedules). There are ways around this, of course. If I am interested in teaching my students character development, then I could always leave this topic for the next class lecture on the novel. Still, I wonder just how much we should take into consideration our students’ schedules as we design our courses.

Showalter also discusses that length may have influenced the shift in interest of the fin de siècle novels. Because they are shorter, it is easier to plan and design a course on these novels. This also means that instructors can assign more novels to read, which then indicates that there is some kind of value placed on quantity (at the sake of quality, I don’t know??). Showalter suggests that teaching short stories is good because they are of manageable length and teaching them chronologically means students grasp much of the history of literary influence. I think this would be especially effective in a survey course. I wonder if assigning too many novels in a different course (lets say a course on female novelists in the 18^th century), would remove the ability (because of time constraints) to study each text in-depth.

One of Showalter’s points that I found to be especially interesting and useful is explained in the section titled “The Narrator and the Teacher.” Showalter says that teachers are usually assumed to have all the answers and authoritative interpretations. Showalter indicates that teachers of fiction can take the opportunity to play with the teacher’s narrative role by “foregrounding” or “defamiliarizing” our reliability (94). Showalter cites professor Ben Knight who discusses the advantage of the teacher’s role as the “narrator” in the classroom. Showalter summarizes Knight’s point and says, “when the teacher refuses to take on this comforting role, and insists that students reach their own conclusions or accept their own uncertainties, the group’s frustration can be compared to the reader’s frustration with ‘the shift from the coherent universe and caring narrator of the ‘readable’ nineteenth century novel to the ambiguous and unreliable narrator of the twentieth century’” (95). This is such a good example of how the instructor can take advantage of her role as a narrator in order to make a literary point. I hadn’t thought about this before I read the chapter on “Teaching Fiction” but Showalter draws my attention to how instructors can adapt literary techniques into pedagogical techniques. For instance, to teach students about the experimentation of novel writing and in turn, narration, in the eighteenth century, I can imagine how effective it would be to expose the unreliability of narrators in 18th century novels by exposing our own shortcomings as instructors. I like the idea of an “active” learning experience where my pedagogical techniques mirror literary techniques in order to make a point.

When I first started reading Showalter’s book, I was overwhelmed and somewhat annoyed that Showalter is constantly referencing others for their pedagogical inputs. I was hoping for one solution to every concern she poses rather than offering conflicting viewpoints. However, this chapter especially made me realize just how grateful I am to have an array of expert perspectives which I can choose to apply to my own future pedagogical practices. As we approach designing our own syllabus this semester, I will consider much of Showalter’s concerns in this chapter and think about how I can apply several of the solutions she offers as well. At the least, she poses critical questions that are vital to take into consideration as we think about teaching a course on fiction.

Using Technology in the Classroom

In On Course: A Week-By-Week Guide To Your First Semester Of College Teaching, James M. Lang argues that while there are major benefits to using technology in the classroom, it can be time-consuming as well. Instructors should not spend more than two hours preparing for each hour of teaching, he argues, because depending on the technology instructors decide to use, it could consume a major portion of time (that isn’t necessarily available to us) to prepare. So, he suggests that new instructors should just keep it “basic.” He also makes it clear that instructors don’t have to utilize any form of technology to be good teachers but that there are some advantages to using basic features of the technological landscape. In the second chapter of his book, titled, “Teaching with Technology,” Lang discusses the four main benefits of using virtual learning environments, like Blackboard, in the classroom. Since he is “slow” to using technology in his own classroom, he cites his colleague, Lucia Knoles, for her expertise. I am going to discuss two of these benefits and how I see myself applying them or how I already do apply them in my teaching practices.

The first major benefit of using a virtual learning environment is that it “builds community.” Instructors and students can continue the learning process outside of the allocated time during class. Lang discusses one feature in particular that I find would be very useful for my teaching and that is the use of discussion boards/weblogs. While I use Blackboard in my classes, I have yet to utilize this tool. Discussion boards/weblogs allows students to post responses/questions they may have regarding their required readings. This helps instructors “discover the main ideas and problems that students had with the reading” (50). I think this is helpful because it allows instructors to understand “where” the students are in terms of learning. This can help me shape my lecture or discussion to better suit my students’ concerns. Also, many students don’t articulate their concerns or confusion with class material and I only find out that they have not quite understood my expectations when they turn in assignments. This has happened to me several times. I then address their concerns in class but at that point, we may have already moved on to different material. I would rather address these issues early on and before they are to turn in major assignments. Students may feel more comfortable posing questions/concerns online than in person.

Another benefit of discussion boards is that it allows quieter students to participate and share their thoughts outside of the classroom. I think this is a good option for students who may have anxiety speaking up in class. Lang says that we shouldn’t dismiss the reality that “some students may have anxiety disorders which make speaking in public difficult and potentially damaging ordeal: these students deserve an education as much as anyone else” (52). While I encourage my students to speak up in class, I don’t penalize students who don’t. There is more than one way to account for participation points – attending class or being prepared to share drafts in small groups, are some examples. Students bring into our classrooms their various experiences and personalities and I am not okay with putting students in positions that create high anxiety for them when I can somehow accommodate this fear. And I would like to accommodate for these students in some way so that they can participate in our learning process and so I can make sure they realize that their voices and thoughts matter too (even if they are not expressed in the conventional way). I think discussion boards are a great option for this and can see myself integrating them into my future classes.

Another benefit Lang discusses is building multimedia elements into our classroom. This is something I have utilized. For their first reading assignments, my students are required to read several of Paul Laurence Dunbar’s poetry. What I like to do is post links to his poems online. It’s free and easily accessible. Also, some of Dunbar’s poetry is written in African American Vernacular English and because we discuss the importance of Dunbar’s dialectical choices, I want my students to be able to hear the dialect rather than just read it. I have found a great resource online that offers both the textual and audio version of Dunbar’s poetry. I require my students to listen to the poems before coming to class and this helps guide my lecture and our discussion.

While Lang does insist that it is not necessary to utilize technology in the classroom and instructors can be just as brilliant using paper, pencil, chalk and a chalkboard (I agree), I still wonder whether we can improve the learning process by utilizing various technologies. He cites Lucia’s example of having her students listen to the main character in I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings sing the Negro National Anthem and how this helps students understand the scene “more deeply” (53). I think this is a great example that shows through technology, we can make reading and teaching literature an “experience.” Not that simply reading the text isn’t an experience on its own, but that there is the possibility of heightening this experience by allowing students to “hear” what the characters are saying or visualize, for instance, what the characters are describing. I think various technologies, including Blackboard, can be useful in improving our pedagogical practices. It’s tempting to explore what other virtual learning environments have to offer, but I am not that tech savvy and Blackboard (once you get the hang of its essential features) is pretty easy to use. Also, I don’t think that I can or would like to keep up with using more than one learning environment at once. Not to say I wouldn’t consider it (especially since I’ve seen the advantages of using Blackboard so far).

The Implications for Learning in our Digital World

In The Future of Thinking: Learning Institutions in a Digital Age, Cathy N. Davidson and David Theo Goldberg raise some interesting concerns regarding today’s “digital world” and how it has influenced (and still is influencing) our learning and teaching practices.

My interest is in chapter 3, specifically, titled “Our Digital Age: Implications for Learning and Its (Online) Institutions.” Davidson and Goldberg discuss the topic of “openness to knowledge.” Before the advent of technology, schools were our main institutions of knowledge. Now, with our access to the Internet, the way in which knowledge circulates has changed. Anyone (with access to the internet through a computer or even a mobile device, of course) can access knowledge. Moreover, anyone can contribute to creating knowledge as well. Davidson and Goldberg cite Wikipedia as one of the best examples of a “virtual learning institution” where “collaborative knowledge creation” emerges (56). Davidson and Goldberg note that this creates a shift in the hierarchy of knowledge; schools are no longer the elite, primary institutions of learning.

This shift in learning poses several implications. The good thing is that anyone can have access to information and knowledge. Why should knowledge be held secrete or reserved for elite institutions? Why shouldn’t it be available to everyone? Davidson and Goldberg argue that this shift “puts pressure on how learning institutions – schools, colleges, universities, and their surrounding support apparatuses – enable learning. Institutional education has traditionally been authoritative” (54). This concern in hierarchy and authority is interesting to me. I understand why Davidson and Goldberg are calling for a shift in our teaching practices in our classrooms and I will get back to this again later, but as much as we would like learning to be non-hierarchal, I don’t think this is possible. In the end, the degree you earn from a college/university is your credential and your degree lands you a job (ideally). This already sets educational institutions apart from other institutions of knowledge as the primary, elite mode of learning because only they can offer you this sort of authorization.

Davidson and Goldberg are interested in the issue of trust and credibility when it comes to the openness of knowledge as well. They ask, “Where sources of knowledge making and authority becomes less visible, less face-to-face, more anonymous, and less concretely institutionalized, what or whose sources are we to trust as authoritative? And how do we discern the acceptable from the unacceptable, the trustworthy from the misleading or manipulative, the demonstrably compelling from the half-truth or the flatly false?” (54). These are valid concerns, of course but it still takes us back to this issue of authority. It seems that if it is easy to access a source of knowledge (let’s say an article, for instance) then this article’s value seemingly lessens. If it is more difficult to access said article, then it appears somehow more important, relevant, or true. This is false. Can’t we ask similar questions regarding credibility or authority of published, scholarly works as we can of knowledge found on the web? Scholarly works are not delivered from error or bias, for instance. Nonetheless, scholars devote years of research and learning to their specified interests and are thus, experts in their fields.

But, I think the important issue here is to consider how these changing forms of acquiring knowledge influence classroom practices. As instructors, do we allow students to access Wikipedia for knowledge, for instance? I definitely think it’s a great place to start in exploring a topic or issue of interest but depending on the stakes of the assignment, students may need to delve deeper into the research and that is when they should access scholarly works (they may even find these sources in the bibliography list on the bottom of the Wiki page). I think it is our duty as teachers to make sure our students can discern between these sources of knowledge. If they understand the implications of using Wikipedia, then they are cautious of the arguments they make and the work they turn in to us.

Davidson and Goldberg discuss how our digital, technologically advanced society has influenced student behavior in classrooms, too. The common complaint is the use of laptops and mobile devices in the classroom. If students can Google information, for instance, it “undermine[s] the authority of the instructor” (75). Why do we have to think in terms of “authority”? Instead, make it clear to students that dissenting views exist, that there are other sources of knowledge besides the instructor’s lectures, that there is such a thing as “subjectivity” no matter how objective we try to be, and that learning is a process and exploring various sources of knowledge in order to formulate a perspective is part of the process? I think this is more productive for students’ learning in the classroom. The other concern is that students’ attention is compromised by the use of technology in the classroom. If students are not “paying attention,” it is because they are disengaged. We then should question our own teaching practices. Why not combat this by implementing the use of laptops in class lectures/discussions? Students are interested in the technological and social world – I think we can use this to our advantage. For instance, I sometimes randomly call on students to look up information on their laptops during class – this way I make them feel like responsible participants in the classroom. Or, when I teach students about “persuasiveness,” I ask them to get into small groups and find YouTube videos that are persuasive in some way and then to talk about why and how they are persuasive and share their answers with the rest of us. This way, they will at least be using their technology to contribute to classroom discussions and learning. And they are way more engaged, too.

Literary Interpretation in Sheridan D. Blau’s The Literature Workshop

As an undergraduate, most of my English professors created comfortable environments in the classroom where dissenting arguments and ideas were welcome. This allowed me to question literary works as well as the lectures given to us by the professors without feeling like I was doing something wrong. For instance, I remember feeling disappointed when my professor glossed over Safie’s character in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Finally, the only Eastern, female character in all of the novels we’ve read that semester and there is no discussion about her at all. I approached him about this after class and he said that not many critics (if at all) have written about Safie; nonetheless, he encouraged me to look into it more. I realized that my background (as a Muslim and Arab) influenced the way I approached a certain text and the expectations I had of classroom discussions…and that this was okay.

Now, as I teach composition at the collegiate level, it is so important for me to remember that my students will bring into the classroom their personal experiences and backgrounds as well. How they respond to certain topics of discussion, what interpretations they choose to make, or what they choose to write about, for example, are largely influenced by their backgrounds and the culture in which they live. What I hope to do is allow students to gain critical thinking skills without forcing my interpretations them. I think it’s important to consider why a student feels/thinks/writes/argues they way she does. Nonetheless, while I am open to various interpretations and arguments from my students, and indeed encourage individual thought, the one thing I constantly stress is that when they make a claim, they must have textual evidence to prove said claim. With their textual evidence, they can support the analysis that they’re making.

Sheridan D. Blau highlights the complexities of interpretation in part 3 of his book, The Literature Workshop. He mentions personal experience as a factor for influencing the interpretation of a text. For instance, while he’d never come across students/teachers between 1960-1985 who read Roethke’s “My Papa’s Waltz” as a poem about the abuse of a child, it does not mean “there were no students in my classes…who read Roethke’s poem as a poem about abuse” (73). He argues that in a time where abuse was not a topic ingrained in the cultural discourse, perhaps some students did not share their interpretations because it would expose their personal lives. As a graduate student of literature, I was shocked to see how openly my professors and classmates discussed topics of colonialism, imperialism, otherness, dominance, etc., in response to the novels we’ve read. These were not subjects that my undergraduate professors or classmates were bringing up in class even though the concepts were often on my mind. Blau’s example forces me to consider how culture influences our interpretations and even our discussions of a text. In the past decade, and more so in just the past few years, the topic of “East vs. West” and ideas of colonialism or war, for instance, regained immense popularity in the news and media. It is no surprise then that our conversations in the classroom have shifted as well.

Blau also reminds us to be conscious of what students bring or fail to bring to the classroom in his discussion on “background knowledge.” He makes an important point that some students may entirely miss an interpretation of a text not because they are not insensitive readers, but because they lack background information. For example, if students are able to interpret Wilfred Owen’s poem “The Parable of the Old Man and the Young,” they are possibly acquainted with “the text that lies behind the text” (88). Or, they are familiar with the biblical story of Abraham and Isaac and thus, use this background knowledge to read and interpret Owen’s poem. When I taught Paul Laurence Dunbar’s poetry at the beginning of this semester, I made the silly assumption that at least one of my students will know the biblical figure Ham and can interpret why Dunbar compares the “colored soldiers” who fought in the civil war to him. When I asked why Dunbar draws this connection and what do we know about Ham, not one student gave me an answer. Of course, there are multiple factors that could have caused this – some students are shy, others may have an idea but are afraid to share it in case they are wrong, etc. – but most of them were nodding their heads “no” while I waited for an answer. I realized that I couldn’t approach teaching these texts with the assumption that my students have the same background knowledge as I do. So, when my students offered various (and sometimes wrong) interpretations of Dunbar’s poetry, I realized that some of these interpretations lack background knowledge. Blau says, “a teacher needs to recognize what actually enabled her to read the poem so sensitively, so that she might provide instruction to replicate her knowledge for her students” (88). He insists that teachers should demonstrate to students how different readings of a work can occur and that it is not their incompetence that created one meaning over the other, but rather their lack of background knowledge. Teachers “have a responsibility not to misrepresent the kind or quality of knowledge that students may lack and teachers may possess” (91). Blau’s chapter on “Background Knowledge” (and the book in general) is especially inspiring in that it offers a model for how we can bridge such gaps.

“Modeling” in Elaine Showalter’s Teaching Literature

Much of what Elaine Showalter discusses in Chapter 3, “Methods of Teaching Literature,” reminds me of my own experiences as an undergraduate of English literature. In this chapter, Showalter addresses the issue of preparation. She appears to be calling for a balance; over-preparation may be just as detrimental to the class as under-preparation (45). This leads Showalter to question “whether we teach from our area of research specialization, and make teaching a subset of research, or whether we make teaching an exploration for us as it is for our students” and which is the preferable method (45). For someone who has researched and written about a particular text, they know the ins and outs of every page. This may not serve students too well who are approaching this text for the first time. Showalter offers various perspectives on this and one of these suggests that professors re-read the material they are going to teach the night before, or simply teach material they have not read prior to assembling their syllabus. There is value in approaching a text with your students for the first time because you are less likely to consider their concerns, questions, and perspectives as trivial. By seeing the text on the same level as students, you can address their surface concerns and from there, lead them to the “larger picture.” If you start with the big picture, you might lose a lot of students in confusion. I’m not saying that students can’t see an overarching theme, but it takes exploration of the text first and professors who are teaching a text they have written their dissertations on are beyond initial, surface examination.

In keeping in mind students’ perspective on learning, you can reach out to them more successfully. Another point Showalter discusses is “modeling.” I remember as an undergraduate what a disaster it was to write my first close-reading paper. Before it was made mandatory to take English 200 (the course that prepares students for English studies), I registered for an English course titled, The Age of Johnson and Burney. While I was still trying to understand how to navigate through texts in a more academic way, I was also expected to write my first “real” literary argument. I had no idea what I was doing! I obviously did not do too well on this paper. However, I took my professor’s comments into consideration and improved the next time around. While I did not learn necessarily learn from “modeling” per se, I did learn from my professor’s feedback. I also took advantage of office hours and asked questions about my paper and how I could improve.

Because of my own struggles with approaching new knowledge and expectations as an undergraduate, I now try to keep in mind my students’ perspectives as I teach English 1020. For instance, when I tell students that it’s important that we are conscious of the choices authors make in their writing, I am careful not to assume that all students know what “conscious” even means. Or, I don’t assume that students can write their own thesis statement or even know what that looks like. Of course, we can’t always anticipate what students know or don’t know, but one way we can be sure we don’t ignore the possibility of reaching out to students who may be lost is by modeling.

If you want students to write a successful literary analysis, then you should show them HOW to do so. The semester after I took The Age of Johnson and Burney, I also registered for another course with the same professor. One day, after students turned in their first papers, he walked into class, sat down at his desk, opened to a passage in the novel, and demonstrated how to do a close reading. After this, he walked up to the board and illustrated how to write a thesis statement based on the evidence he had just gathered from the close reading. By the end of class, he had written the bulk of the literary analysis on the chalkboard. After this class session, I felt much more confident in approaching my next literary analysis. A few weeks later, and after students turned in their second literary analysis, the professor told the class that there was a significant improvement from the first submission. I am certain that modeling to students how to closely read a text and write a literary analysis gave them skills they could apply when doing the task themselves. The idea is to show and not just tell.

But to be honest, one of my concerns with modeling as a teacher is showing my class sample student work. As graduate students of English literature, it is invaluable for us to read published essays and learn the techniques used for instance. But is it the same for first year college students who have not necessarily discovered their “voices” just yet? I sometimes fear that by showing students a sample rhetorical analysis, for example, it might constrict their writing process because they are trying to emulate what I see as an A paper. In the process, their skills and perspectives may be pushed aside and I would hate for that to happen. I can see the value in showing students a strong thesis statement in comparison with a weak one and discussing why one is better than the other, but I am also afraid that I am not making it clear enough that there is more than just one way to write a successful paper. Of course, this concern has a lot to do with student obsession with grades, which I will return to later on in the semester when we approach this issue. I just hope that I can find a way to maneuver through this concern because I do find value in modeling as a method of teaching.

Showalter, Elaine. Teaching Literature. Malden, MA: Blackwell Pub., 2003. Print.