CUNY Practicum: English

Classroom Observation

I observed Professor Dupre's Introduction to Literature class on Thursday, Nov 16th.  The day's reading was "Othello," a text the student's had been working on for a couple of class periods. 

Professor Drupre's class was not organized in a traditional fashion.  The student's sat in a large circle, single file, so that everyone could have easy access to communicate with one another.  There was also no official discussion, or even lesson plan, which isn't to say the class wasn't organized.  The students came into class and signed up on the board for a role from the play.  The class then read the text out loud, taking turns with some of the larger roles.  When student's reached an important passage or asked a question, this is when Professor Dupre would engage in a full-class discussion.  This is a really intriguing way to facilitate conversation about a text--in some ways, it's an ideal model for getting students to understand the difficulties of Shakespearean language, ask questions, while also doing traditional close reading.

My concern with the class has nothing to do with Professor Dupre's style, but the usefulness of teaching Shakespeare at all.  Although students asked question frequently, discussion never went much beyond comprehension--"wait, who is Desdemona married to?" "Does Iago really think that?"  It's good for student's to have the space to ask basic comprehension questions, but no real discussion took place.  What is the purpose of teaching Shakespeare? If student's cannot move to the next level of understanding, what is gained here? 

One other important element to my visit--one exasperated student asked, "why are we even reading this?" Professor Dupre stopped the reading and addressed the students to offer a response.  Students defended the reading process and the usefulness of reading classics.  Professor Dupre didn't offer much in the way of her own stance (a wise decision), letting the students explain the meaning of literature for themselves.  Sobering though, the dissenting student didn't seem noticeably moved.

Beyond Language--Cultural Experience in the Multicultural Classroom

Although from the above title it looks like I'm writing a thoughtful essay, I'm actually just throwing out some ideas per our discussion last week about ESL in the classroom.  I find that most of my ESL students function well in the classroom portion of our work--they are usually willing to discuss and I believe that talking helps them relax when writing overwhelms them.  But one problem I consistently find is the idea of a cultural language, meaning a set of texts, refrences, experiences, etc. that we generally believe we can draw upon in a setting that a strong majority will understand.  I recently got back a stack of papers--student writing had improved, but several of my recently transplants to the US made absurd claims about our history, one writing that Martin Luther King put an end to slavery.  Obviously these students are not unintelligent, but I was unaware of just how far apart our cultural language was.  I didn't think I needed to give a history primer about such important dates in American life.  I was wrong. 

This issue arises in many seemingly less significant places.  I mention a book, movie, television show, historical figure, as a reference point and it's no reference at all.  I acknowledge that part of the problem is my own cultural literacy--I ravenously consume American culture in all its forms, so not everyone is going to have the same reference points (my students simply don't remember Bob Barker with dark hair).  And yet I think these reference points, cultural landmarks, etc. are really necessary for understanding; they can provide useful analogies, application to real world experiences, etc. 

I'm curious if this is a personal problem, one arising from my own intellectual penchants, rather than a consistent difficulty. 

"Inventing the University"

I find Bartholomae's overall argument alluring.  I've often been troubled by the common, shopworn notion that students must "find their voice" in a composition class.   Bartolome's argument stands in direct contrast to that--it is not their own voice they must find, but an ability to effectively appropriate the voice of the academy.  Through this appropriation, students then learn to effectively enter into conversation with other thinkers, earning legitimacy by being able to play the game.  Admittedly, this is how I think about several of my writing assignments.

Bartholomae's essay begins with a quote from Foucault, but the essay makes me uncomfortable in ways that Foucault's thinking might address.  Is privileging academic language over all others a politically conservative and potentially alienating decision?   By making students conform to a particular way of writing, are we erasing difference in students?  I throw these questions out not becuase I disagree with Bartholomae's argument, but because I think what is left unaddressed here is the responsibility of the academy to then police its discourses and and make serious ethical judgments on the effectiveness and meaning of them.  If this is the language of "public life" (78) are we confident enough to mould students' language into that form?

Teaching Statement--v2.0

My first semester teaching was a terror. 24 years old, with no experience and very little training, in front of a room of 30 students implicitly trusting my authority and ability to teach. I couldn’t stand for most of the time because my legs were shaking. Within a couple of weeks my confidence increased and I found that although I had a lot to learn, I had a natural rapport with students and love of teaching. , During my first observation, the class almost operated independently of me. Without prompting or reciting back to me my own thoughts, my students helped create a thoughtful and engaging discussion of the day’s text while respecting and listening to one another’s opinions. Perfect.

This experience taught me to move away from the traditional model of professor as lecturer. Although one should not give up authority in the classroom, control can be shared among students. I find that such an environment is key for my students to become better readers and writers. I don’t want my own thoughts recited back to me—I want students to learn to articulate their own ideas clearly and effectively to one another and me. When this happens in the classroom, it happens on paper too.  That said, lecturing is sometimes necessary and useful in getting students to understand the fundamental concepts which will ultimately fuel discussion.

Although I encourage my students to share their own ideas and take our course work in their own directions, I discourage an overly personal, confessional classroom. I do not assign personal essays to my students. I find it detrimental to them to spend more time focusing on themselves rather than important issues and ideas. I hope they find ways to apply our classroom discussions to their own worldviews, but I don’t make that the goal of the course. Fundamentally, students need to learn critical writing and reading skills that will facilitate life-long learning.

English professors are expected to teach both composition and literature courses. But I don’t see these as separate entities.  My composition course relies on literature and essays to provide students models of language in action. Good readers become good writers and vice versa.   A good reader identifies what makes a text work and translates those skills to their own writing. Good readers encounter language at work in ways that are functional, expressive, and compelling. This also shows up in student writing. I find this process to go hand in hand with classroom discussion, as all three elements contribute to a student’s ability to express and articulate.  And “good reading” means more than having read particular, well-known texts. Although cultural literacy can’t be ignored as a part of professional success, I want my students to take away a set of skills that can be applied to the most famous literature to the most (seemingly) trivial.  This means not only paying attention to structure, word choice and meaning, but also reading beyond the text.  What is the text’s historical location?  What issues does it ignore or keep silent about?  What are the paths not taken and how do they affect what we see on the page?

On Edmundson and Connor

  I found Edmondson and Connor to be writers coming from a similar location--that of an older guard reflecting on the academic culture that they helped create and is now passing them by.  Both bring up good points but both are also infused with an arrogance I find typical too often among academics.  In Edmundson, it is the notion of "challenge" and Connor, the "big question."  I want to challenge my students as well, but both see the role of the professor as a kind of politically-aimed shaman, challenging their students to rethink the world.  In what way is a professor's first job to radically alter the worldview of a student?  This position assumes that the professor has the knowledge and authority to move from their chosen subject to abstractions about life and the world. Professors are not ministers or revolutionaries.  Shouldn't our first work be competency in the subject we are assigned to teach?  I would love to facilitate major change for my students, but that should be a potential byproduct of the classroom experience not the primary concern.

It shouldn't surprise me to find that Connor is a classicist.  Here's a field experiencing a huge epistomoligical crisis.  The only way to keep his job and field secure is to return to the questions that the classics are supposed to answer or illuminate for us.  So Connor must return to the "big questions," which not surpisingly, are questions that ignore the academic concerns of the past 25 years--identity, sexuality, ethnicity, class.  Maybe those concerns have become a little shopworn, but to fall back on "what is the meaning of life" sounds like chatter rather than learning.

 

Neil's Teaching Philosophy--First Draft

My first semester teaching was a terror. 24 years old, with no experience and very little training, in front of a room of 30 students implicitly trusting my authority and ability to teach. I couldn’t stand for most of the time because my legs were shaking. Within a couple of weeks my confidence increased and I found that although I had a lot to learn, I had a natural rapport with students and love of teaching. , During my first observation, the class almost operated independently of me. Without prompting or reciting back to me my own thoughts, my students helped create a thoughtful and engaging discussion of the day’s text while respecting and listening to one another’s opinions. Perfect.

This experience taught me to move away from the traditional model of professor as lecturer. Although one should not give up authority in the classroom, control can be shared among students. I find that such an environment is key for my students to become better readers and writers. I don’t want my own thoughts recited back to me—I want students to learn to articulate their own ideas clearly and effectively to me and one another. When this happens in the classroom, it happens on paper too.

Although I encourage my students to share their own ideas and take our course work in their own directions, I discourage an overly personal, confessional style classroom. I do not assign personal essays to my students. I find it detrimental to them to spend more time focusing on themselves rather than important issues and ideas. I hope they find ways to apply our classroom discussions to their own worldviews, but I don’t make that the goal of the course. Fundamentally, students need to learn critical writing and reading skills that will facilitate life-long learning.

English professors are expected to teach both composition and literature courses. But I don’t see these as separate entities. Good readers become good writers and vice versa. A good reader identifies what makes a text work and translates those skills to their own writing. Good readers encounter language at work in ways that are functional, expressive, and compelling. This also shows up in student writing. And “good reading” means more than having read particular, well-known texts. Although cultural literacy can’t be ignored as a part of professional success, I want my students to take away a set of skills that can be applied to the most famous literature to the most (seemingly) trivial.