“Justice, nothing but justice, that is the sum of my argument.” -P.J. Proudhon
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In my experience I have found that teachers and professors are often very insecure about the broader validity of their professions. (I have found the insecurity even more pronounced among professors.) They recognize the importance of education but beyond the general, vague “motherhood and apple pie” value of it, I have often found that many lack clarity about what education really is for. I can admit to some of the same confusion but I don’t think this is due to a lack of conviction or belief among many educators. If there is any one cause (and I think the causes are many) it is that the direct link between education and employment is often unclear. This can be unsettling for educators because whether you teach in the public or private schools or in a university, the emphasis is always on giving students their money’s worth and meeting the standards set by economically-minded administrators. Very few people are comfortable turning their backs on the materialist assumptions of modern educational delivery.
I can offer my own example of this.
When I was applying to college years ago I remember making several trips with my father to visit schools when they had open houses. I remember one trip in particular to an unnamed institution. We were making the “rounds” of faculty and current students and we decided to go and talk to the head of the history department. I remember asking him what a history major could do with a history education once he or she graduated. I’ll never forget his response. He actually looked puzzled and didn’t know what to say. After a moment of apparent confusion he said, as I recall, “Well, you can teach. Or perhaps go to law school.”
I remember having a sinking feeling right then. Looking back I actually feel sympathy for the man and a little sadness over the question I asked him. I was only 18 and didn’t really have any idea at all what I wanted to be or what I wanted to do with my life. My question merely reflected my own confusion; I was simply asking him a question that I thought Ishould be asking him. I don’t begrudge him not having a ready-made answer. After all, here I was asking a Professor of History what a history major could do with his education! Wasn’t his position evidence enough?
Today, years later, I look at my own role as an educator in two ways:
First, I try and be very democratic: the class is a mini polis. I like to follow the Socratic model where everyone has their say in interpreting what they are reading. We all share in the discussion and I am foremost a participant among participants. I believe in facilitating the development of my students’ skills by letting them put them to use what they are learning. I think of myself as a mentor who encourages and poses questions to guide them in their work. I have powers that I like to relegate to what I believe to be their proper place in our relationship. To wit, I evaluate student essays and presentations; my power lies in my ability to confer a mark or a grade. That is indeed a great deal of power when students are paying their hard earned money to get an education to get on in the world. But I don’t believe that this should constrict their freedom to learn when they write and participate in the classroom. Real education, I believe, lies in trial and error and effort and I want to make sure they have the opportunity to do all of that without fear.
Secondly, I don’t think of my role as a teacher in strictly material terms. In other words, I don’t feel that I need to be thinking about what I am teaching as being directly or indirectly related to the overall market value of my students’ education. I don’t know what they will do with what they have learned in my classroom; I just want to be sure that I have helped them to learn while in attendance. I want to teach by stepping out of the way of their education as much as possible.
If this last statement seems odd I will qualify it this way: I am like a trainer. I can show you methods and I can make suggestions but the effort and the validity of the effort rest with you. When you come to me I take it on good faith that you recognize the value of your work. I want to help you experience that value.
Jeremy Nathan Marks
I love this post. I feel very much the same about education. I am given a scripted curriculum and my students are all 3 + years below their grade level in reading and writing. I have noticed that they are so much more responsive when I speak to what is in my heart, and when I am able to share my own experiences with them. I do my best to open up discussions with my students, but there are some times/particular classes where open forums are difficult to maintain. I teach children with learning disabilities, behavioral issues, autism, etc., and it can be challenging to keep the class dynamic positive and structured enough to accomplish what I feel they should be learning.
My school has basically made it so that there are no novels, only short stories or informational texts. I am not saying that these aren’t important, but I attribute most of my success in school to the fact that I absolutely love reading. I feel that becoming wrapped up in a good story is one of the best ways to nurture this love.
To this tune, I have decided to read novels with my students. I have seen the most reluctant readers finish a book for the first time in their life. I could be reprimanded for going off my script, but I feel that I owe more to my students than the people at the district office. Because of the reading we have done, many of my students have made tremendous progress in reading, writing, and most importantly, motivation.
I tell my students all the time that the most important thing for me to teach them is how to think on their own, without being spoon-fed information or just trusting what is on television.
I think it is lovely that you feel you owe your students more than what you “owe” the district office. If you can share what matters the most to you and you can find a bond with your students through writing and reading (and your heart) then why not make that happen?
I also think I survived (and am surviving) school because I love to read. I don’t know if instilling that love in others is one of the hardest tasks of education but maybe it is. When I think about it, getting people to read what I write is one of the most daunting and rewarding things I do. After all, with all there is in the world to look at why should you look at what I am writing or listen to what I am saying? And yet, I think helping students to love to read and write and to learn makes them feel that what they have to say matters, that their thoughts and feelings and beliefs matter and that they can find kinship with others. Michelle and I were watching the film version of Roald Dahl’s “Matilda” the other night and he really brings the idea of kinship through reading home in a touching manner.
I am so dismayed that school systems are taking novels out of the curriculum (not to mention the visual and performing arts). When I taught in Maryland I dealt with this too. This issue is a source of personal conflict because I want to teach in a way that lets me bring my education and passion to bear but I don’t want to deny public school children and underprivileged students access to a good education but I also don’t know if I have what it takes to do what you are doing. I have a hard time with the public school rules. This is something I am thinking a lot about these days as I am writing my dissertation and thinking about work beyond my PhD.
I admire the work you do. As an educator myself I know that not everyone can be a teacher and among teachers, not everyone can do what you are doing.