On Directions

some preliminary thoughts…I must admit that I’ve been working on this post for a few days and I’ve struggled to express myself. Too much resistance, but to what? Ugh! Although this is not quite finished, I needed to post it here. I’m hoping to build on it and eventually use (at least) some of it in my book project.

I’m in the midst of archiving all my past assignments for my book project. After feeling stuck for several days on my teaching philosophy statement, I decided to change how I was working. Instead of continuing to write page after page of notes in my green notebook, why not find all of my old assignments and review them to see how I actually taught and not how I thought I taught? This was a smart move. It’s illuminating to look back on the assignments that I chose and how I organized them.

My first reaction: Wow. I have a lot of details in these assignments! It’s a bit out of control. For example, I created a pdf of all of the course assignments for my Feminist Debates (fall 2011) course that is 9 pages long. 9 pages of detailed directions.

the first of nine pages

Why did I do this to my students?

Pondering that question for a moment, I remembered one of the earliest feminist pedagogical principles that I adopted as a women’s studies grad student, teaching one of my first courses. In a feminist classroom, students encounter new ideas that challenge their ways of knowing. And they are encouraged to not passively receive the answer from the Teacher, but actively explore how and why knowledge is produced. This is unsettling and troubling, even as it is often exciting and transformative. Students can benefit from structure to direct these new ways of learning, thinking and teaching.

Without structure, students can become overwhelmed and lose their way. So can teachers. Left unchecked, without some sort of structure to guide me or rein me in, my thinking and teaching becomes too much…for students, friends, family members and, at a certain point, me.

In reviewing old teaching materials, from syllabi to class summaries to in-class assignments to big class projects, I see structure everywhere. A highly ordered syllabus. Class summaries that are broken up into very specific parts, to be completed within exact amounts of class time…10 minutes for announcements, 20 minutes for an introduction to the topic, 20 minutes for small group, etc. And detailed assignments that encourage students to find their own ways to challenge and connect with class concepts, but that ground those challenges and connections in focused (and directed) methods.

Ah yes, the assignments. A primary way in which I imposed structure within the classroom was through highly choreographed assignments. And the primary way in which I communicated and managed that structure was through my detailed directions for those assignments.

Lots of Directions.

While I was always reluctant to introduce a lot of specific classroom rules (I despise disciplining students or fostering spaces marked by what you can’t/shouldn’t do), I never shied away from detailed directions on assignments. Why?

  • To anticipate and preemptively answer basic questions about the assignment (when it’s due, does it need to be typed, etc).
  • To manage/direct flow of engagement, especially online.
  • To break up intimidating/difficult/overwhelming assignments into manageable parts for students and the Teacher.
  • Because it feeds my love for elaborate planning–the more thinking through that it requires, the better! Is that bad? 

As my teaching became more experimental and involved efforts to challenge/resist/transgress academics-as-usual through the blending of online and offline spaces, my directions became more detailed. I made them more detailed partly because using blogs and twitter effectively requires a lot of thought and deliberate action–without guidance, students often won’t post much or will post a lot but all at once or will frequently post uncritical, superficial junk. And I made them detailed because I needed some ways to manage and mitigate (?) the resistance that some (not all) students (consciously and unconsciously) were expressing to these experiments. Resistance to new ways of engaging. Resistance to the extra work and learning that these new ways demanded. What does that mean? I need to think through it some more. 

I have much more to say about directions, but I’m tired of writing this post now. So, I’ll end with a few questions to ponder:

  1. How much detail in directions is too much?
  2. What are some other strategies for helping students as they engage with difficult and uncomfortable ideas and practices?
  3. As I became more invested in a feminist/queer pedagogy and critical of the academic industrial complex, my teaching practices become more experimental. How much experimenting is too much? When is it irresponsible to the students and their well-being?

Processing, 28 January 2016

It’s been a busy (and sometimes difficult) month. Swim meets, band concerts, family visits, emotional meltdowns, and school holidays. I’ve been struggling to get back into a routine with this project. I’m hoping that processing my ideas will help. The following ideas come from my green writing notebook.

On Being Stuck

I’m trying to revise/revisit my statement of teaching philosophy. I have the start of a good draft but now I’m stuck. I’ve taken lots of notes (10+ pages), but I can’t quite figure out how to write this document. The only other time that I’ve felt this stuck in my book project, like I was writing in circles, jotting down the same ideas over and over again, was when I was writing about the point of being a professor. I guess I’m experiencing some resistance to taking on this role again. Or apprehension? Am I still a teacher? What do have to offer? What can remember about my time in the classroom? After all, it’s been 4 years since I formally taught.

The idea of being stuck, being unable to know or write, is not a failure of willpower. It can signal resistance to ideas that make us uncomfortable or that haunt us. Ideas that, if taken seriously, can transform how we understand and act in the world. In my own version of feminist/queer pedagogy, these moments of being stuck are valuable and a big part of my classes involved creating space for them and finding ways to work with and through them.

Yesterday, while trying to work through my “stuckness,” I composed a list: How to Get Unstuck, some suggestions. I think I want to add to the list with something about embracing stuckness?

21st Century Skills

What skills do students need for the 21st century? In my green notebook, on page 97, I mention how I need to discuss 21st century skills in my teaching philosophy statement. On a practical level, you need to know how to: navigate the internet, use a blog, code a little, tweet, look stuff up. On a more conceptual level, you need to learn how to: experiment, explore, find things yourself, sift through a ton of conflicting perspectives, manage and harness your curiosity in effective and ethical ways. These are digital literacy skills. I think that the Academy could help students a lot, but IFF (if and only if) how/what/why they teach is transformed. I should say more about this idea and how it was one of the reasons that I left higher education.

The Troubling Hour

At the beginning of January I wrote Early Morning Encounters on my TROUBLE blog. In the midst of writing it, I realized that I was creating another category/concept to use in my pedagogy: the troubling hour. A time and space that you inhabit on a regular basis to reflect, critique and be curious.

For the past year or so, I’ve gotten in the habit of getting up at 6:15 AM, before anyone else in my house is awake. I make my extra strong coffee and sit on the couch, scrolling through my facebook and twitter feeds. Usually I’m looking for something that sparks my curiosity and inspires me to get into a critically reflective (troubling/troubled) space.

Sara Puotinen

Shifting Strategies and Techniques

While looking through past assignments, I decided that it might be interesting to trace my shifts in strategies and techniques, like how my “critical response” assignments changed from a notebook to direct engagement blog posts. Paying attention to these shifts might enable me to trace my undisciplined teaching path, just like I traced my unofficial student life?

Processing, 14 January 2016

It’s 2016. Coming back from winter break has been a bit challenging. Getting back into the flow of planning and writing. Adjusting to the ridiculously cold weather. Coping with a child who is staging a powerful display of resistance (physically and emotionally) to going to school. Even with these challenges, I’ve managed to continue working on my book project. Here are some of my thoughts.

Lists!

From the start, I’ve been jotting down lists in my green notebook and I always envisioned that I would include them in this project in some way. Over the past week, I’ve realized that they could be central to my format. Yesterday I spent more time adding resources to the “list” category on my Undisciplined Stories page and posted a list on my Trouble blog. And this morning I read and thought about how lists work and why we create them (Umberto Eco’s ideas are particularly compelling).

In the midst of this thinking, I made some connections between lists and the syllabus:

  • the etymology of syllabus is Late Latin syllabus or…”list”
  • syllabi include many different lists: reading lists, assignment lists, expectation lists, rules lists
  • both the syllabus and lists in general are designed to create order out of chaos, to give us focus and create boundaries and direction
  • both the syllabus and lists function as a sort of “account”…and giving an account is one of my purposes in this project

How do I want to format my lists? How pithy should they be? What is the point of lists? With this last question, I’m thinking about different types of lists and their origins: treatises/manifestos, to-do lists, top ten lists, how-to lists, etc.  Random thought/question: If lists create order out of chaos, do questions create chaos out of order? I see both of these things (lists and questions) as central to my pedagogy and this book. How do they function beside each other?

A List of Lists that I’m thinking of including:
  • How to Read, one Strategy
  • What is an Education For?
  • Toxic Academic Values
  • Healthy Academic Values Made Toxic
  • Academics who resist the Academic Industrial Complex from within
  • What’s a Teacher?
  • What I am NOT giving; What I AM giving
  • Troublemaking Teaching Techniques
  • How to be…some useful virtues
  • How to be…a troublemaker and trouble-stayer
  • Be like a…
  • How-to guides: How to…cite, (not) think, tell stories online, pay attention, engage; ask questions, write, watch tv
  • Rules
  • Healthy Habits
  • Troublemaking role models
  • Ideas generated while reading in the bath

Wow. Spending more time thinking and writing about lists is fascinating and (over?) stimulating.

Super-hero Sara

For my birthday last year I asked for a super-hero version of one of my favorite pictures of myself (it was created by Sam Smith of Replace). STA didn’t have time to tweak it until I finally forced him to do it this past weekend. I really like how it turned out! I’ve already added it to my TROUBLE blog. I want to incorporate her into this book project.

Original Picture
Original Picture
Super-hero Sara
Super-hero Sara

Trouble, the Syllabus?

Speaking of my trouble blog, I’m thinking of creating a syllabus for reading/using it. This syllabus, which will also be included in the second section of my teaching portfolio for this book project, would be on the front page of TROUBLE. Will this work? Has anyone created a syllabus for reading/engaging with a blog?

Learn in Public

I want them to constantly think and reflect upon their creation and their process of creation so that when someone comes to their site, what they see is an amazing curation of a process for thinking, learning, and being as a person in the 21st century.

Jim Groom

I love this idea of making visible/public the process of creation. That’s what I’m trying to do on this site. My goal is to archive my process of thinking, learning, being…and feeling in the 21st century. Cool.

Here’s what I wrote in my first post for this blog (originally called “The Process” and created specifically for documenting process of working on my Farm project):

While most of the focus is usually on the finished project (the final product), I’m a big fan of making visible the process that goes into that product. I see tremendous value (for me and my readers/co-collaborators) in paying attention to the processes we go through as storytellers in order to engage with and make sense of the memories, experiences, artifacts, ideas, understandings that we’re trying to craft into stories. In fact, I see those processes as important as the product that we ultimately create.

Sara Puotinen

Processing, 23 December

I’m about to take a break form this project for the holidays. Before I do, I wanted to make note of a few sources and ideas to revisit in January 2016.

A Tentative Outline!

Over the past week, I decided to summarize and synthesize my work since early November. So I created an outline. I’m not posting the entire thing on the blog, but I’ll post the overall structure. I’m (very loosely) basing it on a teaching portfolio.

  1. Introduction to Book and Key Question: Am I (still) a Teacher?
  2. Teaching Portfolio, part 1:  Theories, Manifestos, Assessments. This section will include an undisciplined cv, past teaching materials, teaching philosophy, reflections on what a teacher is and what an education is for.
  3. Teaching Portfolio, part 2: Imaginary Teaching. This section will include 3-4 imaginary (or imagined?) syllabi, with class notes, reading lists, assignments and other class related materials. 

Academic Assholes

16 Years in the Academy Made me an Asshole

Gradually, I started to resent academia, partly because I couldn’t get a permanent job and partly because of the elitism and snobbery that came with the profession—an elitism that seemed inextricable from the environment and the people in it.

Rani Neutill

Yes.

I’d been an asshole because I thought that having a Ph.D. made me special or better or smarter than everyone else, when in fact, all it made me was, well. . . an asshole.

Rani Neutill

Hell yes.

A New Book to Check Out

Teacher, Scholar, Mother