Blessings from Hell: the View from the Student’s Desk*
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that we must suffer,
suffer,
suffer,
into Truth.
–Aeschylus, The Oresteia
“Imprisonment of the Mind” by ccr_358 on Flickr.
The first half of this post is written in the (very real) voice of an angry student wanting to “quit school.” The second half is a preview of an upcoming podcast interview with the director-producer of the “unschooling” documentary, “Voices from the New American Schoolhouse,” that I wrote about recently in the “Four Convergences” post. It’s also an invitation for anybody out there to submit questions for that interview, or arrange to call in during it, in this post’s comments.
The two halves of this post belong together. Bear with me.
What Fresh Hell is This?:
When the Desks are Turned….
As regular readers know, I’m a “student” again in this (US) $500 online AP workshop.
I almost “hate” it. And that’s good.
It’s good to sit in the student’s desk and experience the exasperation, the time-wasting folly, the powerlessness, the absurdly arbitrary nature of it all.
Harsh? You decide. Another quick example (after the B+ for assigning a videochat / filmmaking poetry lesson instead of an analytical essay): Course started three weeks ago. Course book was mailed before that, but only included the AP Lit workshop book. No syllabus. On Day One of the course, Blackboard lets students in to see teacher bulletins. I must have missed the mention of reading Their Eyes were Watching God on one of those links. Even if I hadn’t, it takes three weeks for book orders to arrive in Korea. This was a Week Two assignment.
I went to two bookstores with foreign (English) book sections, but no luck. I emailed the teacher, asking for either an extension or a workaround by performing a similar analysis in a different novel. Seemed reasonable to me.
I emailed teacher the day the assignment was due - Sunday in LA, Monday in Korea. (I’d searched in bookstores the day before, so I sent this email within 24 hours of discovering the problem.)
Here’s where it gets interesting. Teacher told me “It’s too late at this point to deal with the geography issue.” Note the language: absolute as the Ten Commandments. And so arbitrary. It could easily be otherwise.
Think about that: am I supposed to learn “a valuable lesson” about punctuality here? Is that the teacher’s role? Is that what I’m paying $500 for? To be told, “No learning activity for you because you were tardy”? And “this is going to hurt your grade, young man?”
At 45, it’s absurd. Given the circumstances, it might be at 15 as well.
Compounding the mood is another maddening fact: teacher and I went round and round for probably two or three hours this week in private emails in which she told me I was participating too much in the forums. Forums participation is weighted 400 total points, while weekly work is weighted 100 points each week, so I spent silly energy trying to tactfully ask teacher to resolve the cognitive dissonance of the simultaneous “Talk / Don’t talk” commands she was giving. In a parallel universe with a teacher comfortable with student autonomy, I could have used that time to discover the problem with the upcoming assignment.
(That tact was hard because a forum, especially online and asynchronous, is open space when I teach classes, and I only interfere when there’s abuse. I still don’t get the pedagogy behind this control, and feel more and more like asking for a refund. I participate a lot, yes, and that’s no different from a fantastic AP Language workshop I took last year, in which much good conversation and good will happened. Why the difference now, with this class and this teacher? Where’s the pedagogy?)
Add to that: teacher publishes assignments for each week at a pace she controls. I’d finished the prior week’s assignment within two days, and had she set up the course for self-paced acceleration, would have seen the unavailable novel issue five days sooner. Why not publish all assignments up front, and assign only the feedback on a tighter schedule?
One last doozie: She requires class members to read every post in Blackboard’s primitive forums (proprietary software like that is so painful - you can’t expand a thread to see it all at once, so you click countless posts that say, “Thanks!” Worse, teacher has disabled all multimedia embedding, so we’re stuck with text only). It’s required for the grade.
But what’s in the forums? “Schooly” assignments in which we play high school and write literary analyses of teacher-selected works. We write our analysis, then we give feedback to others. Fine, okay. It can be fun, within limits. But this isn’t an AP Literature class. This is “Teaching AP Literature.” Why so much “playing the student,” instead of focusing on the pedagogy? Yeah, I get the idea of shaking off rust. But it shouldn’t be the major focus.
The more important assignment, though, is our lesson planning for AP Lit - you know, the “teaching” aspect that we teachers enrolled in the course for? Hold your hats, because here’s a bigger doozie: Teacher does not require us to read each others’ lesson plans, and give feedback.
Instead, she alone gives feedback on those - in an email, with a numerical grade.
I’m sorry, but that’s simply bad teaching in my book. I don’t care much if somebody finds fault with my interpretation of a Shakespeare sonnet. I do care if somebody finds fault with my lesson plan design. I’d love to see my classmates criticize that. I’d have 20 peer-teachers. My teaching, and my students’ learning, would benefit.
But no. I have one teacher only here: The capital T teacher, the expert who gives grades to fellow adults. Note the hidden curriculum. Again, absurd.
There’s no less pleasant feeling than righteous indignation. Who likes feeling self-righteous? But I’m burdened with it.
So cure me of this. As usual, dear reader, I beg you: tell me what I’m missing.
For the record: there’s no space on the forums for suggestions to improve the class. I have emailed suggestions, with little response. In the classic “park the ambulance at the bottom of the cliff instead of installing guard-rails at the top” move, those suggestions come only at the end of the course, with the end-of-course evaluation. By then, it’s (fittingly) academic.
Why This Bad Luck is Good Luck
–ancient Taoist parable
If nothing else, I’m re-living the experience of all intelligent students who have to swallow their insights into how their teacher could foster better learning - and better morale.
And the convergence of this experience with my recent explorations of unschooling, of Illich, of Downes, and of the Sudbury schools couldn’t be more serendipitous.
Danny Mydlack, the New American Schoolhouse documentary director, told me in an email that he’d posted the full documentary in segments on YouTube. So I started watching it tonight to prepare for the interview.
I’m not finished yet. But so far, here is what I consider the film’s most powerful moment. Listen to this young man explain why - after a life in public schools - he did nothing in the full first year of his attendance at this self-directed “unschool.” (His clip starts at 4 minutes, and he hits his brilliant stride at 5.30):
Such power in those insights. One day, I hope student voices this honest and insightful are common posts in our edublog readers.
So here’s the invitation, again. If you want to watch the full documentary, it’s posted in ascending order - bottom to top - at Danny’s page at YouTube. It’s very well-done, and worth the hour.
And if you want your questions or comments included when I interview Danny - or if you want to join us on Skype - just comment below and have your say.
Interesting journey these days. More and more, the problem doesn’t seem to be “dropping out,” as much as “dropping in” - or being dropped in, in a perfect use of the passive voice - in the first place.
Treat a student like an infant - even a 45-year-old one - and you get an infantile student. This post is proof.
I look forward to “de-toxing” when it’s all over, and getting back to what I want to learn, for free, grade-free, and above all – teacher-free.
–
*Sorry for the re-post. I want RSS readers to enjoy the epigraphs from the Greeks and Chinese - a stylistic touch I’m learning from Diane’s writing at Journeys. This is another thing I don’t like about aggregators - they don’t update revised posts.
If you like this post, please spread it:
(But don't tag it "education." That will bury it.)
- Student 2.0 as "Homework Artist" (or: breathtaking grammar)...
- Student Council: Creating Tomorrow’s Followers (or, "Smells Like School Spirit")...
- From Red Pen to Invisible Ink: Assessing Student Blogs with Diigo Groups...
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Clay,
I went to a podcasting workshop today that was “brilliant” in all senses of the word: good information, nicely paced, excellent student/teacher interaction. This is how I want to be taught; this is how I want to teach.
[Reply]
diane
25 Jul 07 at 10:47 pm
Since you like my quotes, here’s another one for you:
“For good teaching rests neither in accumulating a shelfful of knowledge nor in developing a repertoire of skills. In the end, good teaching lies in a willingness to attend and care for what happens in our students, ourselves, and the space between us. Good teaching is a certain kind of stance, I think. It is a stance of receptivity, of attunement, of listening.”
-Laurent A. Daloz
[Reply]
diane
25 Jul 07 at 10:48 pm
Clay,
Most of us have similar stories of abusive pedagogy (some of my worst were in my education courses!) You’ll get through this, and the reflection will help. At the very least, the suffering will make you more sensitive of the suffering of others.
So when you say you’re ready to get back to “teacher free” learning, does that mean you’re going to “emancipate” your students? Or at least ask them how they want to be taught?
… and if they don’t want to be taught at all, then what?
Maybe when you’re ready for a break from Illich (but not until you’ve read Tools for Conviviality), you can move on to Freire!
[Reply]
tom
26 Jul 07 at 4:42 am
Thanks for the buck-up, Tom
The amazing (maybe not) thing is this woman literally wrote the book for AP Lit. The reflection did help (though I should apologize to readers for enduring it).
As for “teacher-free” learning, that was in reference to me, not my students. BUT - I attack the words “teacher” and “student” in my class, and urge “learners” instead; I have a year-long forum for open criticisms of our class on Moodle, with a “dummy” username and password to guarantee anonymity, in hopes that will encourage them to tell me what changes they want.
How to “emancipate” students in School is a tough one. a) What does that mean? b) To what extent? c) How?
Self-directed learning through choice of poets, novelists, playwrights, etc - this is one approach I want to attempt for AP Lit this year. It doesn’t seem easy, and I hope others will pitch in any suggestions.
It seems a step toward reversing those who “don’t want to be taught at all.”
But “be taught” is maybe a word trick when you use it? To be avoided by letting them decide what they want to _learn_, within the scope and restrictions of the AP program’s external exam?
I’ll order that Illich, and already have the Freire - thanks for the nudges
[Reply]
Clay Burell
26 Jul 07 at 10:47 am
Clay,
Granted, I just discovered your blog, and this post is several months old, but I wonder why you’d continue to put yourself through this kind of frustration. Don’t just think outside the box — get yourself a new damn box already!
<>
Emancipate them by putting them in an environment that trusts them while expecting them to conduct themselves responsibly. Let them learn what they want to learn; let them learn by being part of a community of equals (no token stabs at democracy, but the real thing). Let them set up and take classes, or learn on their own, or set up small groups — whatever works for them.
The ones who want the skills of an AP course can still get that. Those who want to write will have ample opportunity to do that.
System won’t let you do such radical things? Then find/create a new system, I say. It’s high time we remembered that systems are supposed to serve people, and not vice versa.
Besides, people who don’t want to learn can’t be taught. Wasn’t it Plato who said that no learning of any value could come from coercion?
[Reply]
Bruce Smith
4 Mar 08 at 11:43 am