Were it Not for the Students, I Would Love to Teach!
Robin Means-Coleman
University of Michigan
Ann Arbor, USA
I often joke with my colleagues that I would love to teach, were it not for the students. Indeed, students can get in the way of my best pedagogy because, it seems, some cannot come to grips with the fact that I, as a Black woman, can make a valuable contribution to their intellectual development. Though often the only thing Black in my classes is me and my box of Liquorice Altoids, some of my (predominately White) students allow their racism to become an impediment to their learning. At times, the things that I say in the classroom are “Blackened” by my students without regard to content or context. For example, when I recently told students that country singer Patsy Kline had one of the purest voices I had ever heard, and one should listen to her vocals using “old technology” means such as albums, a student complained that I was forcing Blackness upon my students. In this complaining student’s mind, Kline must be Black because Black subjects are the only things that Black people can know.
Since I began college-level instruction 15 years ago, I have become accustomed to such troublesome feedback from students, in part, because of the sheer quantity of emails, anonymous notes, or remarks on my teaching evaluations that variously state: “if I wanted to take a Black class, I would have majored in Africana studies.” Though I will never give credence to such communiqués, understanding is half the battle. I have come to understand that what I am dealing with is “co-cultural oppression” (Orbe, 1998), which describes interactions between dominant and nondominant group members while, too, acknowledging deviations in the definition of “dominant” and “nondominant.”
To illustrate, a White male can concurrently be dominant (male, White) and nondominant (student, youthful) in a college classroom while a Black female can concurrently be dominant (teacher, older) and nondominant (female, Black). Hence, we must account for the ways in which dominant and nondominant group members’ status can shift in communication situations resulting in one potentially finding herself being, as Orbe describes, “cautious, guarded, fearful, quiet, uncomfortable, not as outgoing, careful, and stifled.”
In 2005, ICA member Clemencia Rodriguez challenged the Women of Color Caucus to interrogate a type of “cultural war” waged against women in the academy by their students. I would like to continue Rodriguez’s important discussion by attending to two lines of inquiry that she introduced. They include:
Also be prepared that, no matter what strategy you adopt, some students may willfully want you to be fearful, guarded, or stifled in your communication with them either because of your gender, race, and ethnicity, or because they reject the power education affords you. Respond by reinstating your voice in the classroom.But what, you ask, of your resistance to the authoritarian model? Here, I am not talking about silencing a vibrant, dialogic exchange of scholarly ideas and debates. Rather, I am talking about controlling a classroom scenario that works to silence YOU; such a silencing is just as intolerable as that which silences students. Think of it this way, what are you teaching your students about dominant and nondominant encounters when fear and discomfort takes hold of you in your classroom?
There is another threat that women of color in the academy must be mindful of. That threat can come from within—that is, from other women or people of color. Not long ago I attended a forum for African American women physicians and high-ranking health care administrators. The conversation took an interesting turn. The women reported that they all have received letters of complaint and that the overwhelming majority of those letters came from other women of color. At a recent communication conference during a session on diversity in the classroom, I referenced what I had learned at the medical forum. The conference session attendees erupted, sharing similar perplexing stories of what felt like the ultimate betrayal by “their own.” Worse, these faculty members’ colleagues at times did not know what to make of such, for example, “Black-on-Black” or “woman-on-woman” crime.
There are a variety of reasons students hold their women (of color faculty) to a higher standard than other faculty. One reason may be the nanny/mammy syndrome, where students expect, and often demand, a certain level of attention from their female faculty. Nanny faculty are expected to be nurturers-- to care deeply about all parts of the lives of their students. They are ever at the ready to listen to problems of roommates, partners, families, etc. More, nannies have a sack full of solutions (beginning with a box of tissues).
Such attention shifts from laudable to problematic when students see this level of attention as pro forma for their female faculty, but rarely of men. Mammy faculty are often women of “more” color, and have all of the responsibilities of the nanny, with the added expectations that they be wholly self sacrificing in their work on behalf of students, and prolific with their sage advice. Mammies should have no other professional, familial, social, or civic obligations. Students drop by to see mammies at all times—though never during office hours, and complain loudly to all within earshot when mammy faculty are unavailable.
Students that seek out mammies expect to be seen and heard, often for very long visits. Mammies, perceived to be possess a rich depository of folksy wisdom (“chile, if you believe it, you can achieve it”), are not, however, seen as being expertly capable of advancing students’ scholarly achievements. Students may choose male advisors instead.
If women fall short in their nanny/mammy roles, students have learned to indict women faculty for not doing their jobs. A recent New York Times article entitled, “To: Professor@University.edu Subject: Why It’s All About Me” implicates new technology in this sense of entitlement by students to faculty members’ time. However, a closer look at this article reveals unexamined specialized requests made of women. In the article, five female and six male faculty are cited. The piece reveals that the demands of women are largely service-oriented: an absent student’s request for the professor’s lecture notes, asking for advice on what notebook to purchase, seeking understanding for too much partying, and desiring empathy for familial obligations.
Conversely, the demands upon the six men by students were mostly about intellectual pursuits and class content: spend more time with those of us who comprehend the course material, spend more time on the readings, and summarize the main discussion points at the class’ end. Quite simply, it is far easier for women to fail in their time and emotionally consuming nanny/mammy roles, and thereby get those dreaded letters of complaint, than it is for men to fail in their professional roles, thereby avoiding students’ scorn.
EBay and American Idol Have Ruined My Teaching Evaluations
Very often our teaching portfolios are chock full of evidence that says that we take our teaching seriously. I build my teaching dossier by attending two teaching-related/faculty development events each year. I then have a section on my vita entitled “Faculty Development” where I evidence the kind of “continuing education” I undertake to keep my teaching skills honed and my techniques cutting edge. For example, my vita includes entries such as: “Diversity Initiatives Workshop,” “Learning Styles of Students,” and “How to Become an OSCAR-winning Teacher.” If I am at an institution that does not inquire about such activities, on my annual faculty activity report I amend this information to show that I take my pedagogy quite seriously.
Offering such information enables me to point to a pedagogically-grounded, rigorous course design, thereby working to close the door on teaching performance self-doubt.The value of quantitative student evaluations has long been debated. Some argue that students are the least equipped to offer an informed assessment of pedagogical practices. Often students earning an A grade in a course loves the instructor and the course. Students earning a failing grade will loath both.
Lately, qualitative reports too leave something to be desired in providing substantive feedback regarding teaching performance. I call what I am seeing a type of EBay feedback: “Great class!” or “Would take another class with this professor again.” This differs little from my real EBay feedback: “Great buyer! A++++. Would deal with buyer again.” Conversely, those students that view my teaching less than favorably tear a page from the American Idol/Simon Cowell page of “constructive criticism”: “her last name is ‘Means’ and that is what she is,” “I hate her,” “she is a bitch,” “she’s a bitchy bitch,” “she sucks.”
I try to tap more useful information by doing two things. First, I conduct mid-semester evaluations in which students must offer qualitative feedback on not only my teaching but on their role in facilitating class success as well. I like to tell students, “now, this is very important to me. I wouldn’t be using class time if it weren’t. With this in mind, here are some of the kinds of feedback that has been less helpful to me, and ultimately to you.” I then show them past examples: “A++++, great class,” “if I wanted to take a Black studies class…” and “I hate her.”
Since I began doing this, I have noted that students concede they have written such things about professors in the past, and that they feel conscious-stricken once they see such remarks in print. With a sense of what not to write, I next address what students should attend to. For example, I ask students to discuss the strengths and weakness of my ability to advance discussion and debate, and I ask students to discuss their contributions to class discussion and debate. I ask what they have learned from me and what I, and other students, have learned from them. Here, everyone in the class takes ownership of what it means to have a successful learning experience. I then collect the responses and we discuss the feedback pertaining to my performance.
This kind of evaluative process not only reminds students of their role in fostering an educational environment, but it also shows what form thoughtful, useful teacher evaluation should take.
Tough Choices
Some faculty have, out of pure professional and psychic survival, opted to “waterdown,” as Rodriguez dubs it, their course content to stave off cultural attacks. In these times when an alumni group has offered to pay students to record class sessions, turn over lecture notes, and submit the reading lists of “radical” professors that show a “political bias,” instructors have been warned to educate rather than indoctrinate. On one hand, sociologist Edward Shils (2005, The New Criterion) advances, “although academic freedom includes political freedom, it is nonetheless desirable that teachers should not expound their own political or moral preferences and values in their classes.”
On the other hand, educationalist Paulo Freire (1970) forwards, “if we accept education in this richer and more dynamic sense of acquiring a critical capacity and intervention in reality, we immediately know that there is no such thing as neutral education.
All education has an intention, a goal, which can only be political…So we find ourselves confronted with a clear option: to educate for liberation or to educate for domination.” Women of color must make some difficult personal, professional, and political choices. In the end, we must simply ensure that which ever option we pursue, we do so with clarity, resolve, and ideally a critical consciousness that does not advance the continued domination, oppression, and silencing of those that look like us. Peace.
University of Michigan
Ann Arbor, USA
I often joke with my colleagues that I would love to teach, were it not for the students. Indeed, students can get in the way of my best pedagogy because, it seems, some cannot come to grips with the fact that I, as a Black woman, can make a valuable contribution to their intellectual development. Though often the only thing Black in my classes is me and my box of Liquorice Altoids, some of my (predominately White) students allow their racism to become an impediment to their learning. At times, the things that I say in the classroom are “Blackened” by my students without regard to content or context. For example, when I recently told students that country singer Patsy Kline had one of the purest voices I had ever heard, and one should listen to her vocals using “old technology” means such as albums, a student complained that I was forcing Blackness upon my students. In this complaining student’s mind, Kline must be Black because Black subjects are the only things that Black people can know.
Since I began college-level instruction 15 years ago, I have become accustomed to such troublesome feedback from students, in part, because of the sheer quantity of emails, anonymous notes, or remarks on my teaching evaluations that variously state: “if I wanted to take a Black class, I would have majored in Africana studies.” Though I will never give credence to such communiqués, understanding is half the battle. I have come to understand that what I am dealing with is “co-cultural oppression” (Orbe, 1998), which describes interactions between dominant and nondominant group members while, too, acknowledging deviations in the definition of “dominant” and “nondominant.”
To illustrate, a White male can concurrently be dominant (male, White) and nondominant (student, youthful) in a college classroom while a Black female can concurrently be dominant (teacher, older) and nondominant (female, Black). Hence, we must account for the ways in which dominant and nondominant group members’ status can shift in communication situations resulting in one potentially finding herself being, as Orbe describes, “cautious, guarded, fearful, quiet, uncomfortable, not as outgoing, careful, and stifled.”
In 2005, ICA member Clemencia Rodriguez challenged the Women of Color Caucus to interrogate a type of “cultural war” waged against women in the academy by their students. I would like to continue Rodriguez’s important discussion by attending to two lines of inquiry that she introduced. They include:
- Did you once enjoy teaching, but now find yourself dragging your feet into the classroom?
- Are you receiving negative teaching evaluations in spite of your very best teaching efforts?
My goal is to come to this discussion from a teacher-centered perspective that privileges teachers’ professional and psychic survival. At times, my discussion will border on the sardonic, however, I implore readers to recall the words of George Bernard Shaw, “all great truths begin as blasphemies.”
Dragging My Feet
Encountering virulent resistance based on one’s difference certainly does not make for zeal-filled teaching. Pedagogy literature tends to charge the faculty member with working to disabuse students of their prejudices. To which I say, “good luck.” The literature presumes two things: 1) that we are dealing with youngsters rather than adults, and 2) that we are dealing with naiveté and ignorance rather than, at times, willful defiance. On the first point, I believe that college tends to infantilize students. Admittedly, 18 years of age, the average age of a college freshman, is awfully young. However, in the “real world,” by 18 years of age young adults have been afforded significant rights and responsibilities—the right to vote, the option of driving a car, owning a home, paying for utilities and daycare, the right to have an abortion without parental consent, the possibility of facing the death penalty, the prospect of securing full-time employment and even serving in supervisory roles, etc. I propose treating students like the young adults they would be in the world. This means accepting that adults make mistakes and that they are held responsible for the decisions that they make.
Teachers should move away from the “Dr. Spock” model of negotiation and reward when dealing with young adults. It sounds something like this: “Ok, interesting (classist, racist, sexist, etc.) perspective. Thank you for sharing. Now, let’s discuss this more thoroughly. Are there others that would like to weigh in or take another stance?” This strategy sends the message that all discourse is equally valuable and valid, no matter how problematic. Instead, be prepared to provide students with actual answers; this means telling students that they may have gotten something wrong (or right). Be ready to allow students to hear your clearly articulated, informed judgment on topics.Also be prepared that, no matter what strategy you adopt, some students may willfully want you to be fearful, guarded, or stifled in your communication with them either because of your gender, race, and ethnicity, or because they reject the power education affords you. Respond by reinstating your voice in the classroom.But what, you ask, of your resistance to the authoritarian model? Here, I am not talking about silencing a vibrant, dialogic exchange of scholarly ideas and debates. Rather, I am talking about controlling a classroom scenario that works to silence YOU; such a silencing is just as intolerable as that which silences students. Think of it this way, what are you teaching your students about dominant and nondominant encounters when fear and discomfort takes hold of you in your classroom?
There is another threat that women of color in the academy must be mindful of. That threat can come from within—that is, from other women or people of color. Not long ago I attended a forum for African American women physicians and high-ranking health care administrators. The conversation took an interesting turn. The women reported that they all have received letters of complaint and that the overwhelming majority of those letters came from other women of color. At a recent communication conference during a session on diversity in the classroom, I referenced what I had learned at the medical forum. The conference session attendees erupted, sharing similar perplexing stories of what felt like the ultimate betrayal by “their own.” Worse, these faculty members’ colleagues at times did not know what to make of such, for example, “Black-on-Black” or “woman-on-woman” crime.
There are a variety of reasons students hold their women (of color faculty) to a higher standard than other faculty. One reason may be the nanny/mammy syndrome, where students expect, and often demand, a certain level of attention from their female faculty. Nanny faculty are expected to be nurturers-- to care deeply about all parts of the lives of their students. They are ever at the ready to listen to problems of roommates, partners, families, etc. More, nannies have a sack full of solutions (beginning with a box of tissues).
Such attention shifts from laudable to problematic when students see this level of attention as pro forma for their female faculty, but rarely of men. Mammy faculty are often women of “more” color, and have all of the responsibilities of the nanny, with the added expectations that they be wholly self sacrificing in their work on behalf of students, and prolific with their sage advice. Mammies should have no other professional, familial, social, or civic obligations. Students drop by to see mammies at all times—though never during office hours, and complain loudly to all within earshot when mammy faculty are unavailable.
Students that seek out mammies expect to be seen and heard, often for very long visits. Mammies, perceived to be possess a rich depository of folksy wisdom (“chile, if you believe it, you can achieve it”), are not, however, seen as being expertly capable of advancing students’ scholarly achievements. Students may choose male advisors instead.
If women fall short in their nanny/mammy roles, students have learned to indict women faculty for not doing their jobs. A recent New York Times article entitled, “To: Professor@University.edu Subject: Why It’s All About Me” implicates new technology in this sense of entitlement by students to faculty members’ time. However, a closer look at this article reveals unexamined specialized requests made of women. In the article, five female and six male faculty are cited. The piece reveals that the demands of women are largely service-oriented: an absent student’s request for the professor’s lecture notes, asking for advice on what notebook to purchase, seeking understanding for too much partying, and desiring empathy for familial obligations.
Conversely, the demands upon the six men by students were mostly about intellectual pursuits and class content: spend more time with those of us who comprehend the course material, spend more time on the readings, and summarize the main discussion points at the class’ end. Quite simply, it is far easier for women to fail in their time and emotionally consuming nanny/mammy roles, and thereby get those dreaded letters of complaint, than it is for men to fail in their professional roles, thereby avoiding students’ scorn.
EBay and American Idol Have Ruined My Teaching Evaluations
Very often our teaching portfolios are chock full of evidence that says that we take our teaching seriously. I build my teaching dossier by attending two teaching-related/faculty development events each year. I then have a section on my vita entitled “Faculty Development” where I evidence the kind of “continuing education” I undertake to keep my teaching skills honed and my techniques cutting edge. For example, my vita includes entries such as: “Diversity Initiatives Workshop,” “Learning Styles of Students,” and “How to Become an OSCAR-winning Teacher.” If I am at an institution that does not inquire about such activities, on my annual faculty activity report I amend this information to show that I take my pedagogy quite seriously.
Offering such information enables me to point to a pedagogically-grounded, rigorous course design, thereby working to close the door on teaching performance self-doubt.The value of quantitative student evaluations has long been debated. Some argue that students are the least equipped to offer an informed assessment of pedagogical practices. Often students earning an A grade in a course loves the instructor and the course. Students earning a failing grade will loath both.
Lately, qualitative reports too leave something to be desired in providing substantive feedback regarding teaching performance. I call what I am seeing a type of EBay feedback: “Great class!” or “Would take another class with this professor again.” This differs little from my real EBay feedback: “Great buyer! A++++. Would deal with buyer again.” Conversely, those students that view my teaching less than favorably tear a page from the American Idol/Simon Cowell page of “constructive criticism”: “her last name is ‘Means’ and that is what she is,” “I hate her,” “she is a bitch,” “she’s a bitchy bitch,” “she sucks.”
I try to tap more useful information by doing two things. First, I conduct mid-semester evaluations in which students must offer qualitative feedback on not only my teaching but on their role in facilitating class success as well. I like to tell students, “now, this is very important to me. I wouldn’t be using class time if it weren’t. With this in mind, here are some of the kinds of feedback that has been less helpful to me, and ultimately to you.” I then show them past examples: “A++++, great class,” “if I wanted to take a Black studies class…” and “I hate her.”
Since I began doing this, I have noted that students concede they have written such things about professors in the past, and that they feel conscious-stricken once they see such remarks in print. With a sense of what not to write, I next address what students should attend to. For example, I ask students to discuss the strengths and weakness of my ability to advance discussion and debate, and I ask students to discuss their contributions to class discussion and debate. I ask what they have learned from me and what I, and other students, have learned from them. Here, everyone in the class takes ownership of what it means to have a successful learning experience. I then collect the responses and we discuss the feedback pertaining to my performance.
This kind of evaluative process not only reminds students of their role in fostering an educational environment, but it also shows what form thoughtful, useful teacher evaluation should take.
Tough Choices
Some faculty have, out of pure professional and psychic survival, opted to “waterdown,” as Rodriguez dubs it, their course content to stave off cultural attacks. In these times when an alumni group has offered to pay students to record class sessions, turn over lecture notes, and submit the reading lists of “radical” professors that show a “political bias,” instructors have been warned to educate rather than indoctrinate. On one hand, sociologist Edward Shils (2005, The New Criterion) advances, “although academic freedom includes political freedom, it is nonetheless desirable that teachers should not expound their own political or moral preferences and values in their classes.”
On the other hand, educationalist Paulo Freire (1970) forwards, “if we accept education in this richer and more dynamic sense of acquiring a critical capacity and intervention in reality, we immediately know that there is no such thing as neutral education.
All education has an intention, a goal, which can only be political…So we find ourselves confronted with a clear option: to educate for liberation or to educate for domination.” Women of color must make some difficult personal, professional, and political choices. In the end, we must simply ensure that which ever option we pursue, we do so with clarity, resolve, and ideally a critical consciousness that does not advance the continued domination, oppression, and silencing of those that look like us. Peace.
posted by FSD | 12:48 AM
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