Pedablogue, by Harvest Bird

teaching beyond tips and techniques

Weblogs as a Teaching and Learning Tool

24 August 2004, 7:05 pm

Here, on the t4t4t blog, are my links to my arts students' evaluation of their weblog as a means of learning during their recent cultural studies unit.

This was the first time any of these students had encountered either cultural studies or weblogs.

Their blog is called Particular Angles.

Less Speed

24 August 2004, 12:48 pm

Over the last week or more, I've been reading a lot in my off-work hours, something I haven't done much since finishing my thesis three years ago. One of the reasons for this long reading drought, I suspect, was the fact that, when I finished my thesis and started full-time (or near-full-time) work, I made an abrupt transition from a research-centred day, when I would teach for no more than four hours a week and spend the rest of the time reading and writing, to a teaching-centred day, when simply keeping up with preparing classes and marking took all my time. It was no longer possible or appropriate to read at work and, given that my leisure time was largely taken up with recovering enough energy to go on to the next day, a fairly barren existence ensued for a while.

Now that my reading drought has been broken, and I'm feeling the hunger again for new ideas that once drove my working day, I'm reminded of another disruptive experience that also occurred during my transition to the workplace and which I never really resolved.

When I'm reading, I read as intensively and as fast as I can; it's the intellectual equivalent of gorging myself on something substantial and large. But I find that, when I'm reading something that's really absorbing me, this approach also takes over at work, where it doesn't work well. Today, without thinking about it, I've done a whole lot of small tasks as fast as possible, leaving me with a stretch of time not long enough to get on to larger tasks like marking (since I like to mark at speed over a long period of time) or researching resources for future classes. I remember realising this logistical mismatch existed when I first started in this job, but because my reading and study habits rather dropped away in the malaise that followed (it was hard to accept that I'd had to give up doing research by day in favour of teaching that felt, at that time, exceedingly low-level), I forgot it again.

Working too rapidly in a university teaching position runs the risk of exposing the bed of perpetual administrative tasks which are always waiting to be done but which can only be tolerated in small amounts. The existence of these tasks (filing, resource and report writing and so on) is one of the things that distinguishes working life from student life, when I lived pretty much exclusively in a world of ideas. The irony of it is that I was miserable for much of my time as a thesis-writer since I felt considerable pressure from an uncertain job market and my relatively precarious circumstances. Now that the building blocks of my professional life are a bit more stable, incursions into the firy world of written ideas bring up the ghosts of how life used to be.

And I still have an hour until my next class.

Gone

23 August 2004, 11:04 pm

One of the students I referred to in an earlier entry has been withdrawn from the programme due to non-attendance. (International students must attend ninety percent of their classes in order to meet immigration's conditions for their student visas.) Immigration has been notified and he is due to return home to China in about two weeks.

The student advisor tells us that the student has been invited to come in to the programme to see the appropriate staff and talk about what happened--in particular to find the ways in which the programme didn't work for him--but has, in her words, "chosen not to do so". Even the job of locating him seems to have been done by someone outside the programme.

It's frustrating, but even more than that, sad, when a student opts out like this without allowing anyone to try and help or to improve things. Usually I have some idea of what has been going on for the student but in this case, I don't. The young man in question was an enigma. I hope he is able to find something closer to what he and his family want for him (in a country where parents' destinies are more closely tied to their children than here) than he was able to in New Zealand.

Workplace Rituals

23 August 2004, 12:50 pm

I don't care if it's superficial
You don't have to dig down deep
Just bring enough for the ritual
And get here before I fall asleep (Source)

An incident at work this morning has reminded me of what it means to work in a composite setting. In bridging programmes, staff come from a variety of backgrounds from both inside and outside the university, with unexpected consequences at times.

Now that my office is in the same part of the building as most of my other colleagues, and now that the photocopier is in a room at the opposite end of the long corridor, I pass most of my colleagues several times a day. In lieu of greeting them each time I see them, I usually smile and nod. (I might add that this economy of expression is characteristic of New Zealand culture, where, as far as emotions go, less is more.) Since one colleague in particular is often talking to students when I pass her, I keep my greetings to a minimum because I don't want to interrupt her, although she usually stops and greets me.

Today after such an encounter (she said "hello"; I smiled in return), this colleague stopped me at my door, telling me how she was unhappy that she greeted me constantly and I never replied. When I said that I thought a smile and nod was sufficient, she said that she felt I ought to say hello back. This was said while students and other colleagues waited nearby.

It's always frustrating to be thought of as acting in a rude manner when no such rudeness was intended. I wrote this colleague a short email apologising for any unintended offence and noting that, when I worked as a part-time tutor in the department where I was also a thesis writer, it was customary for lecturers not to acknowledge tutors in the corridor, to the extent that they didn't even make eye contact as we walked by. I explained also that I hadn't wanted to distract her from her work with students by speaking. I don't know what she'll make of this.

I have always felt, in my home cultural context at least, that eye contact and a small smile is a more intimate and respectful greeting than a hearty "hello". But what this has reminded me of is the way in which the workplace really is a series of rituals, and where meanings are misunderstood or alternative meanings inferred, problems can arise. I don't imagine that I'll be altering my way of greeting others, but I do feel that something which was not unkindly intended has become politicised in a way I'd prefer it wasn't. It's ironic too that I seem to have perpetrated the same effect that I felt when lecturers didn't even look at me as I, a most humble tutor, went by in the corridor.

(Another colleague formerly at ballet school in London says that, as a student, it was rumoured that in times past, when members of the actual company went by, students had to stand by the wall to let them pass and bow as they passed by.)

What We Need

17 August 2004, 12:00 pm

Here in Foundation Studies, each of the coordinators (responsible for different subject areas of the programme) has been giving a presentation on the recent restructuring of our subject areas. Our corner of the university is rather more subject to the whims of the international market than others, and we have to prove continually the relevance and sale-ability of what we do.

Yesterday's presenter began with what she took to be the two essential attributes of a good teacher, which were

a passion for the subject
an unconditional positive regard for the students

These, she suggested, were the successful foundations of a good teaching practice, since if the students could perceive both these attributes in their teacher, trust would be established and learning could take place even allowing for many "sins" (in her words).

I've been thinking about the extent to which I agree with this. I think for my own purposes I might reframe these two attributes a little, to look something like this:

a passion for the subject, together with an awareness of the subject both from "inside" and "outside".

For example, arts study is seen by some staff, students and their families (I'm speaking generally here, not just within my programme) as variously a flawed or irrelevant pursuit. So a passion for arts study needs to include the ability to at least defend and at best explain the field in way that, if it can't make sense to outsiders, can at least present a reasoned case with which they can agree or disagree.

A passion for the subject also needs to be one that recognises the conflicts and contradictions (allowing that many people may argue their discipline is not contradictory) within.

a view of the students that recognises them as who and where they are, is hopeful on their behalf, allows for advocacy for them and includes an awareness of their culture, expectations and context.

Most of us as learners at one time or another have had the experience of feeling picked on or not understood by those responsible for teaching us. I want to be the kind of teacher who sees students for who they are, and treats everyone equally, even the students I'm not drawn to personally. I see my students as passing through on a personal journey, each having come from somewhere different and making their way to a destination unknown. While I hope to teach my students about learning and reflection (through content and skills), at the same time I want to learn from them about their cultures and contexts, about who they are and where they want to go, and then to do as much as I can to help that to happen for them.

The important point, I think, with any kind of identifiable fundamentals of teaching is that these fundamentals themselves be subject to critical reflection, so that, for example, having a passion for our subject doesn't become a buffer to protect us from engaging with the other teachers with whom we work, whereby "I love what I do" is a synonym for "I don't have to change anything". For these reasons, I would take my colleague's view of teaching essentials as a starting point rather than a place at which to stop.

Small Changes

16 August 2004, 2:58 pm

I've reinstalled the comments function using my harvestbird account, meaning the configuration has changed and the few older comments have disappeared. Thank you to those of you who wrote them!

The reason for this reinstallation is that I can now put spaces between the words in my entry titles. The advice via the haloscan fora for installing comments to diaryland was largely erroneous. Use the "date" and "time" tag instructions (intended for single page entries) if you are trying it yourself.

Lost Boys

16 August 2004, 2:11 pm

Even without particularly meaning to, many of my students reveal details of their lives in class and in conversation so that it's possible to build a mental picture of who they are and who they want to be. This incidental interaction is one of things I most enjoy about teaching, particularly the sense of what I do being a single stop on what for many of my students will be a lifelong journey. The more experience I get in what I do, the more confident I feel that what I'm telling them--about courses, about university or very occasionally about life more generally--is, if not true, then accurate rather than inaccurate.

Unfortunately these kinds of student-staff relationships don't encompass all students. Some students are determinedly closed and even secretive. Sometimes this is for reasons to do with the course--they may have been sent here unwillingly by family, or they may be unable to make the connections between what is being taught and what they think they should be learning--and sometimes it is to do with the clash in values that occurs when young men with swagger and a fairly unfavourable view of women come up against their first female teacher who doesn't fit the mould of mother-helpmeet. But this isn't insoluble either and with more patience than I usually think would be needed and a certain amount of letting them know I know, the attitude of such students can usually be worked with or around, even if it can't be changed.

Then there are still others who fall by the wayside in ways unique to them. This bothers me most of all, when I see students in situations where they can't be helped. I have two people like this at present. One is a student who has struggled all year, partly because of an unwillingness to communicate in English. When he has done so his work has been brief but original, but his notes have all been in Chinese (meaning for all I know he could be writing a shopping list). Three weeks ago, he simply disappeared. Since then the staff responsible for student welfare have been trying to find him, which is proving surprisingly difficult in a city of this small size. Once or twice he has been in contact, saying he had matters to attend to in another town. Now he has exceeded the number of absences he is allowed for purposes of his student visa, and may have to return home--if he can be found.

I have wondered a lot during the course of the year what I could do for this student to involve him or engage him more. I don't think we can have made eye contact more than once or twice, and this is in a class of fewer than ten people. What work he handed in was neat and accurate, but always half the length or less of what was required. At the start of each class it was always necessary to ask him to come and join the group--he would otherwise sit at the back of the room.

I hope if he returns home he will be able to find a path that suits him and his family (since for our students from mainland China those two destinies are inextricably bound up most of the time). I wish I could have made a connection.

Another student is bright and capable but also extremely highly-strung. He is prone to bouts of serious depression and I am concerned he isn't getting the help he needs. The basis of his depression seems to be the fact that, having converted to Christianity, his nearest relatives here and at home are isolated from him. Perhaps they are unhappy with his decision. I don't know which church he has joined but I suspect they are putting pressure on him, or allowing him to put terrible pressure on himself. I recently saw him lending another student a copy of a book by Joyce Meyer. I think he may be trying to save his friends.

I'm really worried about this student's mental health, but am limited in what I can do, both in terms of maintaining face for him and within the jurisdiction of my job (I'm not involved with welfare issues). I also feel frustrated and angry at the way some local church groups prey on isolated and lonely students. Clearly from their point of view the aim is to save as many souls as they can, and to encourage their converts to do likewise, but the fact a Christian is newly-minted and ardent may not override the fact that they are vulnerable. Even for those who believe god will sustain new converts, there is still a moral responsibility to take care of them on the ground. But if books by televangelists are their proferred help, then they're not doing their job adequately.

I know from my own late teenage experience both the zeal of being a gung-ho evangelical Christian and the horrors of severe depression. Indeed, it was under pressure of the latter that the former came to grief in my life (although I think this would have happened eventually; it was just that the demise of that line of thought and feeling was that much more spectacular under pressure of a plummeting affect). I can't help but feel that the community that converted my young student need to take better care of their neophyte who might in turn be experiencing less disintegration and despair.

Turf Wars

09 August 2004, 1:53 pm

Have you the stomach for it?
I have not killed him yet sire,
But when I do,
I shall have the stomach
And the liver too,
And the floppily-doppilies
In their horrid goo.
(The actors read from "The Bloody Murder of the Evil Prince Romero and his Enormous-Bosomed Wife", in "Sense and Senility", Blackadder 3 [1987])

My experience of academic discussion and debate is that it is adversarial, and the further up the food chain one travels--from undergraduate to postgraduate to postdoctoral to paid professional--the more adversarial it becomes. Discussion which in third-year tutorials was conducted with elaborate concern for the feelings of others becomes increasingly like a series of eloquent but ferocious slanging-matches.

Many professionals like it like this, and I have heard on numerous occasions the suggestion that if you can't defend under fire your position, both within your discipline and to those in other fields, then your ideas have failed scrutiny. I doubt there are many of us working in tertiary institutions who haven't heard described as "robust debate" exchanges where the heat was rather higher than that euphemistic phrase suggests.

I don't perform well or feel comfortable in adversarial environments, which is a factor in my decision to stay on the fringes of academia here in bridging programmes. I'm not naturally competitive: if another person can give the impression that they mind more than I do about whether their opinion wins the day, then I'm inclined to let them have their say for the sake of peace. This shouldn't reflect on the truth or value of my own ideas, but if I'm withholding what I think because I don't want to discuss it in a confrontational manner with another person--either person-to-person or in more distant fora--then it's easy to infer that my ideas are weaker. But this is a false relation.

I've been thinking about this recently after reading this post on John & Belle's Blog, where, among other things, the dense vocabulary and theoretical remove of cultural theory is questioned. The issues raised include whether such a thicket of terms as those found in the extract invalidates its ideas, or indeed of whether the quoted material is simply a self-propelling tumbleweed of empty rhetoric. This then leads to the wider disciplinary schism whereby analytic and continental philsophers exist in a kind of methodological exasperation, one with the other, each on one side of an intra-disciplinary divide.

These ideas are of interest and relevance to me, and I've attempted some preliminary assaults on them here and here in my own nascent lit crit blog. But I felt unable to join the fray in the comments to John's post, mainly because of the adversarial tone of some of what was said. If continental philosophy annoys a commenter enough to say "The difference between analytics and continentals is that analytics are rigorous and continentals are not. In continental philosophy, you can say just about anything you damn well please", then I don't really have anything to add, having no stomach to meet a takedown with another takedown, even though I don't agree.

But I don't think that an unwillingness to debate an idea in a certain mode or with a certain tone equates automatically to weakness in my own ideas. However, as long as duking it out remains a preferred means of discussion, the ideas of those able to last longest and speak most assertively are going to have more professional, if not intellectual, weight.

Does this matter? And if it does, what are the alternatives? Is a gentler debating practice able to be heard? And if it is, is anyone interested in listening?

What We Do

09 August 2004, 1:41 pm

Discussion in some of the weblogs linked to at right has recently touched on how to answer the well-meaning but conversation-halting question, "what is it that you do, anyway?"

I particularly liked the answer to this drafted by Mel at in favor of thinking, since the field in which she works--nineteenth century literature--is adjacent to (though not the same as) the field in which I trained. The key points in her practice that she outlines seem to me common to many areas of the humanities, by which I mean fields of study or inquiry based around the reading and analysis of texts, whether visual, cultural or otherwise written.

I need to think a little more before I post my own version of what it is that I do, since the easy answer--prepare students for university study--needs a more thoughtful interface with what comes next (the kind of study and reflection described in Mel's post) in order to be meaningful beyond a marketplace kind of level.

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