Category: Week 8 – Inclusive Pedagogy

On Fostering Inclusive, Change-Inducing Conversations

After plunging into the (deep) rabbit-hole abyss of article-clicking this week, I found myself continuously returning to two specific quotes.  

First, there’s the statement from Mahzarin Banaji’s talk in which, in one of her opening lines, she says:

“I don’t want people to not learn from guilt and not learn from shame. I think those are powerful motives. They have made us, in large part, the more civilized people we are. But I do believe that, in our culture and in many cultures, we are at a point where our conscious minds are so ahead of our less conscious minds. We must recognize that, and yet, ask people the same question, “Are you the good person you yourself want to be?” And the answer to that is no, you’re not. That’s just a fact. We need to deal with that if we want to be on the path of self-improvement.”

Banaji’s sentiment braids well with a resonating message Statesman Edmund Burke once delivered—a line Emma Watson quoted in her UN speech about gender equality, which states: “All that is needed for the forces of evil to triumph is for good men and women to do nothing.”

I consider this sentiment often when teaching, especially when working with students who approach writing with the desire to effect change.

“Why write solely to please an audience who already agrees with you?” I asked my composition students this past Friday. “Whose perspectives are you, then, changing? Who else are you seeking to understand, save for the homogenized group with whom you already stand?”

In other words: What’s the point of speaking if we’re not listening? What’s the point of listening if we’re only listening to have our views reinforced?

All this said, I work to foster discussions with my students on how other writers do/don’t pull off the skill of sympathy/empathy in their writing. And while rhetorical analysis discussions often go over quite well, there are some sensitive topics that every semester, without fail, have proven debilitating for my opinionated, otherwise thoroughly chatty students to discuss—particularly race, religion and gender.

Within these past two weeks, for example, we’ve broken down the rhetoric of the new Nike commercial with Colin Kaepernick, as well as an article that discusses changing views of feminism and the notion of “post-feminism.” And although, with these two topics, I was simply asking students to break down the rhetoric of other writers’ writing, they quieted with what I assume to be the fear of them not wanting to stir the pot, of them not feeling confident in discussing their opinions about the issues these works were seeking to address.

“All that is needed for the forces of evil to triumph is for good men and women to do nothing.” 

How do I guide my students to do something?

Bearing this in mind, I found the Arao and Clemens “From Safe Spaces to Brave Spaces” piece genuinely helpful, as the article offers advice on how to approach diversity and social justice learning activities—primarily through establishing ground rules, through, as Banaji argues, recognizing and dealing with the fact that we are not yet the perfectly “good” people we want to be as means for self-improvement; through, as Burke says, doing something.

As inferred from their title, Arao and Clemens propose revising language from the notion of the “safe space” to that of the “brave space” in order “to help students better understand—and rise to—the challenges of genuine dialogue on diversity and social justice issues.” Why the change in title? Because, with respect to safe spaces, Arao and Clemens report that they have found “with increasing regularity that participants invoke in protest the common ground rules associated with the idea of safe space when the dialogue moves from polite to proactive”; when the authors asked students about their rationales for their actions, the common theme of their responses was this: “a conflation of safety with comfort.” In proposing a stronger methodology for creating a space in which students can most productively discuss, the authors ask “What is meant by the concept of safety, and how does that change based on the identities in the room?”

In order to support learning that supports participants in authentic engagement, Arao and Clemens argue, “educators must take care to balance contradiction to a student’s current way of thinking with positive encouragement to explore new ways of thinking,” and, most interestingly,  that “authentic learning about social justice often requires the very qualities of risk, difficulty, and controversy that are defined as incompatible with safety,” and that “the language of safety may actually encourage entrenchment in privilege.”

So, how exactly do we, as educators, go about encouraging students arriving with diverse ranges of privilege and from diverse backgrounds, in general, to engage in a high-risk activity such as discussion of sensitive topics?

Arao and Clemens propose this:

  • Build conditions in which agent group members understand and expect from the outset that challenge is forthcoming
  • Use “brave space” as the alternative term
  • Have discussions about the meaning of “safe” vs. “brave” spaces with students prior to engaging in difficult conversations (“Creating this space for the participants to make their own meaning of brave space,” Arao and Clemens found, “in addition to sharing our own beliefs as facilitators, can lead to rich learning in alignment with our justice-related objectives.”)
  • Collectively establish ground rules, guiding students toward rules that advance productive discussions (examples include “Controversy with civility,” “Own your intentions and your impact,” and detailed illustrations of the meaning of “Respect” and “No attacks”)

When I taught creative writing through Duke University’s Talent Identification Program this summer, I established ground rules on day one…and this, I now believe, was because I had apparently expected my middle schoolers to be different from my undergraduate students; I presumed their maturity levels warranted a greater need to establish classroom expectations. From the first day, we discussed what a healthy environment looked like, penned rules on a giant piece of paper, taped the piece to the wall as a reminder to be revisited for the entire term, and signed the sheet—a contract, of sorts.

I still stand by the notion that my twelve-year-olds are different from my nineteen-year-olds with respect to maturity, but why would I believe that nineteen-year-olds—that adults of all ages, in general—don’t need to have discussions regarding how to best conduct ourselves in sensitive discussions? Clearly, there’s not an age when humans reach a proficiency in communication skills, in sensitivity training, in productive, change-inducing conversation. If there were, the world, I’d imagine, would look quite different. This is something we should consider for all students—for all communicating bodies, in general: productive conversations about how to best have productive conversations.

Week 7: “Always the tone of surprise.”

“The privilege of being able to go to a library and find a book that has a character on the cover that looks like you. A book that has a story that is about you or as simple as watching a commercial and finding a product to shampoo your hair. To learn about that from watching TV, which is not an experience that I have. I have to take other measures to find out about different products for my hair, as a black woman. I don’t have the privilege of just watching network TV and just seeing a commercial that is talking about people like me, who have hair like me.”

–Sonja Cherry-Paul: Dismantling Racism in Education

I’ve had a lot to think about lately, but I’ll focus on this week’s topic. The readings have been primarily about where diversity fits in higher education and how to navigate the inevitable minefield that is created when a diverse group of people come together to figure out what it means for them and their institution. However, my intuitive response to the readings and the word “diversity” is a visceral, gut-wrenching realization–a reminder, really–of my difference, my Otherness. Being a young woman of color in higher education is both an incredible opportunity to affect change from within and a daily dose of prejudice from all sides: because I am young, female, and nonwhite, I contend with three different forms of bias at a minimum. Because of my background, I had to grow up quickly to grasp the implications of my embodied experience (e.g., a nonwhite, female body moving through primarily white, male spaces) and every possible snap judgement that could be made about me as a result. For as long as I have been able to read the news, I have understood that being who I am actively works against my safety, my bodily autonomy, my freedom, and my peace of mind, all of which are basic human rights, rights that are not guaranteed to me.

But that’s what happens when bias is at its worst. In my everyday life, bias is more subtle than potentially fatal police encounters and gender-based violence. Whenever I think of how stereotypes have affected me in my daily life, I can’t help but remember the first installment of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, in which Hermione is shocked–SHOCKED!–that Ron is capable of stepping up to the plate to do something brilliant like save the life of Nymphadora Tonks (one of the best characters in the entire series, if I say so myself). It happens less often now that I’m older and have the look of someone who spends more time in the library than anywhere else, but it still happens: I’m in a place that People Like Me™ don’t stereotypically go or I’m dong something that “we don’t do” or that’s “for [insert literally any other demographic here] people” (and I’m usually the Only One there anyway, which always raises a few eyebrows), and someone feels the need to comment on it.

Having read the articles on Difficult Discussions and what to do if a subject gets “too hot” for one or more parties in the class, I have real concerns about what could happen in such a scenario, precisely because of my background and the potential for things to become…hairy. I have real concerns about how to navigate a tricky subject that may be “too hot” for me. I have real concerns full stop.

To look at these conversations as hard conversations is one thing, but to look at these conversations that are going to solidify friendships, to look at these conversations that are going to strengthen professional bonds, to look at these conversations and say these are conversations that are going to sharpen my abilities to teach kids, I think that’s the win.

–Cornelius Minor: Dismantling Racism in Education

Preparing for Diversity

Today, many colleges pride themselves on diversity and on having a student body that represents a variety of backgrounds and experiences. However, an important aspect of ensuring success for a diverse student body is to have both a diverse academic system (administration, faculty, etc.) and one that is trained in how to identify their biases and support students from a diverse background.

Several studies have shown that the presence of teachers similar to students can influence students academic trajectory. For instance, the presence of a black teacher can have positive influences in black students’ lives by improving graduation rates and the number of black students identified for “gifted” programs. For female students, the presence of female STEM instructors in high schools can increase their likelihood of entering into STEM fields themselves.

These studies are just examples of how both faculty and students internalize societal norms and expectations, and how the presence of people in students’ lives that break those biases is important for their success in breaking negative expectations. Though we may not all be able to provide faculty diversity through our presence, we can support a diverse student body by acknowledging diversity  by understanding our biases and trying to adjust our actions, and we can bring diverse content to courses.

It is important for all humans, but especially those in positions of power (educators, supervisors), to be aware of their implicate biases. We can do that by being introspective. I believe that it is helpful to discuss our potential biases with others- ideally a diverse group. We are often unaware of the levels of our bias or how our actions and words are perceived as negative by others.. We may know “x people are biased against y groups,” but we may not be aware that we ourselves are included in that x group.

It is unlikely, without aid, that we would be able to determine how our small biases affect students. Ideally, instructors (of all kinds) would be given information about unintentional biases in academia.

Take the time to ask yourself some questions before entering the classroom: What kind of diversity am I likely to encounter in my courses? What kinds of preconceptions could a person possibly have about those diverse groups, and am I particularly vulnerable to any of those preconceptions?

Also, we may be aware that we may be biased against/towards certain groups up students, but we may not be aware of how these biases are demonstrated. Do they impact who we call on in class? How we grade? Types of readings or assignments?

We should think about how we decided on our course content. What biases may the creators of the content had? Should we select other content? Can we incorporate different perspectives into our course content? Can we try to represent the backgrounds of our students with course content, discussions, or simply by acknowledging biases?

 

 

chronically ch(ill) – diversity as a spoonie

FUN FACT: you cannot be inclusive if you’re ignoring the invisible

I think about inclusivity often, but maybe not in the way that people would assume. Visually, I appear to be a completely healthy, happy, active person with a lot of privileges, but I have a secret struggle that I will touch on in a bit- I’m a spoonie. Haven’t heard of it? Don’t worry, we’ll get to that- but first, let’s cover the basics of the inclusivity discussion.

Diversity and Inclusion is important to me for many reasons- as an empath, I tend to feel what others are feeling, so a passion for social justice was inevitable. As a woman, I am passionate about advocating for my rights and equality in the workplace. As an individual in an interracial relationship, I have had conversations about how my children will have a different life growing up than I did, simply because of the fact that they will be biracial.  As future professors, we need to address topics related to diversity head on with compassion and the ability to step back and listen to those with different experiences. How do we address white privilege? How can we be inclusive to nontraditional students? How can we better include international students? Students from different socioeconomic backgrounds? Students who are non-binary? We have spoken before about intersectionality before, but while race, gender, and sexuality seem to be at the forefront of this discussion, I think inclusivity ranges far beyond these topics.

Let me ask you a question:
How often do you think about being able bodied?

“The Spoon Theory” was created by a woman named Christine Miserandino in an attempt to help explain to an able-bodied person what it’s like to live with a chronic illness. Imagine that every day, you wake up with an unlimited amount of spoons. Throughout the day, you use these spoonfuls of energy to do various tasks, and the next day you wake up with the same unlimited amount. People with chronic illness have a limited number of spoons, so they have to decide how they will spend those spoons every day, and what goes on the cutting board. Here is a little graphic to help explain to my visual learners!

I am an individual with an invisible chronic illness. I have a form of dysautonomia, an autonomic nervous system disorder that causes my heart rate to skyrocket and my blood pressure to plummet in response to triggers. These triggers range from severe pain, to stress, to simply standing up too fast- my heart starts pounding and my face turns white and WOOPS I am unconscious on the floor, sometimes with some very unattractive muscle contractions. I deal with severe migraines, chronic fatigue, disordered sleep, joint pain, gastrointestinal problems, brain fog, anxiety, and temporomandibular joint dysfunction all on a daily basis.  Basically, the more stressed I get, the sicker I become, and nobody can tell.My cabinet at home looks like a pharmacy. Living with an invisible illness brings with it its own set of issues (if you’re interested, NPR did a great write up about this).

In the classroom, I have to navigate lectures while dealing with fatigue and having to elevate my legs to keep conscious. If you just looked at me, you’d never know that I am not completely able bodied, which has led to professors thinking I’m just lazy or being difficult. Dysautonomia International even has a guide on classroom accommodations for individuals with this disorder. However, when I’ve told professors in the past, I am often met with skepticism, concern, and even exasperation. This past week, in fact, I had a professor tell me that having me in class on a really bad pain day is distracting, because “sometimes you put your head down on the desk because of the pain”. Also, sometimes chronic illness can ebb and flow, with some weeks much better than others. Then, you deal with the “so you’re all better now?” comments. Accommodating me, it seems, is more of a headache than the chronic migraines that keep me in bed for two days with a bad of frozen veggies on my head!

my constant dilemma

In considering inclusive pedagogy, I think we need to start inviting individuals with chronic illness and invisible illness into the conversation. Being inclusive means being accommodating, and understanding, and not dismissive toward people who are facing a private struggle. Just because you can’t see the pain and discomfort I am in, does not mean that it’s not there and making my educational journey more difficult. Let’s start having these uncomfortable conversations about racism, sexism, and ablism. It is only through open, honest communication that we can learn from one another and develop a more intersectional, diverse classroom where everyone has the same access.

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