An Invitation to Imagine: A four-part series on teaching and learning (part 4)

The imagination, when accessed and exercised regularly, can unlock a new world of possibilities.

Teaching requires a great deal of imagination. The extent to which the imagination is used to plan, organize, and execute instruction varies case by case, but in my experience, the imagination is critical in developing the rhythm, beauty, discourse, and possibilities enjoyed by each student enrolled.  The imagination enables me, the instructor, to examine new territory and related fields of study to bring variety and vibrancy to the class discussions, writing assignments, and assessments, thereby embracing a multi-modal, multi-dimensional learning experience for my students.

The imaginative teacher considers all possibilities in how he or she conducts a course.  While guidelines are established in the class syllabus, there is flexibility, when necessary, in expanding these guidelines and boundaries to allow those enrolled to progress to new levels of knowingness and understanding.  One way in particular that I have tried to creatively expand my teaching practice is to look to digital platforms to extend the work in my courses. Like most teachers, I read several drafts of my students’ written work before it is finally evaluated and graded. And like most, I often provide extensive written feedback on my students’ papers so that each student can focus his or her energy on improving his or her composition in the areas that need the most attention. In order to make this a more memorable learning experience I have also leveraged screen casting tools and web conferencing platforms to provide active feedback to my students during writing and creative processes. So, when students receive written feedback from me on an essay, research paper, or creative piece, they also receive a short video of me explaining my evaluation of their work. This approach often takes more time than simply providing written comments, but I believe this is time well spent. I have found that students respond more quickly and far more positively to verbal and visual feedback and their improvement is my ultimate goal.

The imaginative teacher understands that his or her role in the classroom is, at times, fluid.  Greene (1995) suggests that a teacher who instills a culture of active learning will create a “classroom situation most provocative in thoughtfulness and critical consciousness” (p. 23).  Green goes on to explain that these classrooms are those that “teachers and learners find themselves conducting a kind of collaborative search, deliberate attempt to break through ‘the cotton wool’ of ‘nondescript’ daily life, which Virginia Woolf thought marked by repetitions and banality” (p. 23). I want to create a unique learning experience for those who enroll in my classes at Elizabethtown College.  I am admittedly borderline maniacal on this point. After all, if the student doesn’t remember the course, did I really teach them anything? My hope is that when students reflect on their experiences in my classes they do so with the sense that it was not justanother class—that they saw something new in themselves they had not seen before.

Incorporating the imagination, and its creative power, into each course I teach is important because I believe it injects new energy into the learning process—energy that is often missing in most K-12 learning experiences.  In just under one decade, a great deal of creativity and imagination has been cut from most middle level and secondary curricula—especially for those learners who find themselves in the bottom three quartiles of their graduating classes.  Constant remediation, skill and drill test preparation, and general standardization limit the educational experiences of America’s youth by focusing on a small set of literacy skills—those that are tested.  Learning is a quest or a journey of possibilities.  A hard-line policy driven by objective, measurable standards tends to suggest that at a certain point learning should stop.  A more subjective approach celebrates learning that seeks the unknown and the incomplete yet to be explored.  Again, Greene (1995) provides an excellent example from literature by suggesting that Ishmael, of Herman Melville’s Moby Dick (1851) is an illustration of the incompleteness of man.  Melville says, “I promise nothing complete; because any human thing supposed to be complete must be for that very reason infallibly faulty” (p. 135).

I believe this is perfect place to meet our students at the collegiate level—with the understanding that we, all of us, are incomplete.  With creativity, ingenuity, and a little imagination, we have a remarkable opportunity to reintroduce our students to the joy of learning. How can we do this? Sometimes such an experience can begin with a simple invitation.

Many of the courses I teach require students to venture into some form of writing—creative, persuasive, expository or otherwise. I often hear from students at the beginning of each semester say, “Dr. Skillen, I don’t write all that well. I hope you are okay with that.” Or, “Dr. Skillen, creative writing really isn’t my thing, but I need this class to graduate on time. Are you OK with that?”

My response to all varieties of this question is a resounding, “Yes!” I accept these sentiments because in my experience I know these feelings of inadequacy are often the result of a single interaction in high school or middle school. At some critical moment in the less-than-confident student’s academic experience a teacher probably gave the impression that the student could not write. When I encounter students who are not confident writers, I simply invite them to try. If they honestly make an effort to complete the required assignments, I believe we can work together through a rigorous and involved writing process to help the student develop something he or she will be ultimately proud of. My classes are dynamic, dialogical, and multimodal. We employ a process-minded approach to all matters of my course and I explicitly invite students to embrace our process of learning and writing.

The imaginative teacher harnesses the limitations of the current educational system to ignite a desire for learning.  Yes, each course is set on a specific timeline, and, yes, even at the college level, standards—or student learning outcomes—must be met.  However, by making proper use of every class meeting, framing academic activity within the context of the course, and engaging each student to access their imaginations, the teacher approaches meaningful and memorable instruction.  And, if we do our job correctly, we will pass on a legacy of critical thinking and authentic inquiry to those enrolled in our courses. While these instructional characteristics are often difficult to illustrate in class syllabi (Appendix B), my hope is that my dynamic approach to teaching is seen through the accounts and reflections of former and current students.

These three pillars of my teaching philosophy and methodology have been molded through the passing of each academic year. This process began when I enthusiastically opened my own classroom in 2003 and continues to solidify through every opportunity I have to teach.

An Invitation to Imaging: A four-part series on teaching and learning (part 3)

Great teachers know when to teach and when to guide.

In his book What the Best College Teachers Do Ken Bain (2004) articulates what I believe to be the most powerful description of a college teacher’s responsibility to his or her students.  In doing so, he says,

[The] best teachers often try to create what we have come to call a ‘natural critical learning environment.’ In that environment, people learn by confronting intriguing, beautiful, or important problems, authentic tasks that will challenge them to grapple with ideas, rethink their assumptions, and examine their mental models of reality. (p. 18)

As I have worked in teacher education for seven years, I can speak to the importance of a well-established learning environment.  There are in fact entire volumes written on this topic (i.e. Teaching with Love & Logic: Taking Control of the Classroom by Jim Fay and David Funk (1995), The First Days of School by Harry and Rosemary Wong (2001) & Theoretical Foundations of Learning Environments by David Joassen and Susan Land (2012)). It is widely understood that by creating the right conditions, learning will often occur.  I believe that by understanding their role in the classroom, great teachers can make an honest attempt at creating such an environment.

If I were to combine every effective strategy, approach, belief and method from my personal professional practice in a large stock pot and boil it down, I believe two simple elements would remain: teaching and guiding.  As a teacher, I am an expert in composition studies, I understand there are aspects of the writing process that can be taught effectively to emerging writers. I am an expert in curriculum studies, and I am passionate about infusing instructional technology throughout the landscape of education.  My expertise in these areas, as well as related fields in the language arts, is often the focus of my courses.  And through a rather traditional model of higher education instruction, I deliver lectures and facilitate discussions on theory, form, structure, analysis, and authorship.  As a teacher, I assess and measure student development throughout the entire course.  I adjust and adapt my content delivery in order to address questions or concerns from students.  I create assignments and determine deadlines.  And, when it is all over, I assign grades—marks of achievement, outcomes of learning, or one more number in figuring the cumulative GPA. In my opinion, this is only part of the teaching profession.

Whether in the classroom or in the field observing pre-service teachers, there are times when a professor must step back and allow students to advance their own understandings.  In doing so, the teacher operates more as a guide, providing support and advice as students work to solve problems and demonstrate their skills in a given task.  Admittedly, teachers take a risk in devoting time within the course to allow for student-directed study.  However, there are significant advantages to symbolically dropping the reins and allowing the course to run wild for a bit.  From a purely existential stance, such instances offer learners the opportunity to carve their own path, to experience learning on their own terms.

Looking back once again on my own education, I can honestly say that I remember very little of what was said in a class.  However, I have very clear memories of what was experienced in Kindergarten through my graduate course work.  In these moments, the teacher allowed me to find my own path to success or failure. When I visit with former students, whether they are students I have worked with in the middle school or college classroom, they rarely reflect on a lecture I provided on writing pedagogies or plot structures.  Instead, students tell me how much they enjoyed creating, discussing, analyzing and experiencing the content of the course.

Author and educational philosopher bell hooks (1994) refers to these experiences as part of a “progressive, holistic engaged pedagogy” (p. 15) that has the power to press the limits of traditional teaching styles.  hooks (1994) explains further,

I have been most inspired by those teachers who have had the courage to transgress those boundaries that would confine each pupil to a rote, assembly-line approach to learning.  Such teachers approach students with the will and desire to respond to our unique beings… (p. 13)

Clearly, hooks is calling for a more engaged approach to teaching, and in doing so she is calling on participants, teachers, students and supervisors not to settle into a “passive consumer” (p. 14) role.  Rather, hooks encourages everyone connected to the classroom to contribute regularly to the progress of everyone else involved.  While hooks suggests this is a courageous approach to teaching, I would hesitate to categorize active teaching strategies as dangerous.  When a teacher allows for self-actualization or student-guided instruction, he or she does gamble with the time allotted for the class.  However, in returning to the second core principle, “Great teachers know when to teach and when to guide,” a good teacher knows how to utilize these approaches to the benefit of his or her students.  He or she weighs the risks and the rewards and seizes moments in a class to lead through a dynamic lecture, as well as guide students to new appreciations and perspectives.  Striking a balance between teaching and guiding requires finesse and professional judgment that develops through experience in the classroom.

Transitioning from the teacher to the guide establishes a new dynamic in the classroom.  In this way learners can stretch their own understandings in directions that the teacher in front of the room may have neglected to emphasize or highlight in his or her lectures and presentations.  This new dynamic has the power to provide fresh context and perspective to the content of the course.  And, in courses specific to the humanities, I believe there is always room for expansion in this regard.

No matter the level of course I am teaching, I believe the students can bring valuable information and insight to the rest of the class. When operating as a guide, I ask students to develop a deep understanding of a topic or text related to the content of the course. With my guidance students then prepare a short presentation for the class on the new information they have gathered during their time of research and preparation. This single approach allows each student to take ownership of one critical component of the course and it expands the content covered and digested by the class exponentially.

When choosing to operate as a guide in the classroom the teacher takes an opportunity to be inspired as well.  In an environment where the teacher and the students are actively engaged there is no limit to where the combined efforts of everyone involved can take the content of the course.

An Invitation to Imagine: A four-part series on teaching and learning (part 2)

Experience is often a great teacher.

This principle may seem out of place in a so-called philosophy of teaching and learning written by a teacher. If one can learn all he or she needs from experience, then why on Earth does our culture need organized education? I believe new experiences can both inform our understanding of our past and shape our future. And throughout our lived experiences we often encounter a number of guides who help us make sense of our experiences and therefore forge lasting impressions in our memories. In some cases a qualified, observant teacher can serve as this guide. Sometimes these encounters are big and can change a life altogether. But, in most cases, these experiences are small but equally liberating and powerful.

In my own experience as a student, there were times that I certainly didn’t understand the significance of a well-informed guide (or mentor).  As a sophomore in college majoring in English, I enrolled in a British literature survey course that included the works of William Shakespeare.  At first, I found Shakespeare’s use of iambic pentameter to be clumsy and confusing. No matter how I divided up his words, evaluated the lyrical gymnastics necessary to maintain the flow and rhythm of his plays and sonnets, identifying the nuances of Shakespeare’s iambic pentameter was impossible for me.  When I clearly demonstrated my trouble in assessment after assessment, my professor attempted to show me how the very same lyrical pattern I was struggling to grasp could be found in other modes of media. I wouldn’t hear of it. To pass the class I put on a pair of blinders and I charged on through the course—working twice as hard through the moments of struggle and frustration. I memorized foot placement of a few lines here and there, and maybe I fooled the professor in giving me a passing grade in the course.  But, I wasn’t fooling myself.

Two years later, during my senior year, I was listening to the radio when the Rolling Stones’ “Honky Tonk Woman” came blaring through one and a half working speakers of my teal green 1996 Chevy S-10.  Maybe it was the solid backbeat laid down by Charlie Watts.  Perhaps it was the unmistakable lyrical interpretation provided by Mick Jagger.  In any case, I remember singing along, tapping my thumb on the steering wheel, and identifying the iambic pentameter structure of each verse.  I immediately turned my truck back to my apartment, pulled out my Bevington anthology of Shakespeare’s plays from the dusty bookshelf, and saw the beauty of metered verse for the very first time.  The British literature class was over, I had turned in my final exam two years prior, and a grade had already been decided.  But, the skill of identifying iambic pentameter did not crystallize for me within the course calendar.

In this case, through the timeless guidance of the Rolling Stones, I finally unlocked the secret of Shakespeare’s poetic style. This one moment not only informed me of a very important aspect of British literature that I missed in the context of an academic class, but it also gave me important insight on how a well-meaning professor was trying to help me. I had ultimately found one possible way that I might be able to teach students to engage in content they find difficult or obtuse.

The majority of the courses I have taught thus far at Elizabethtown College are in the first-year writing program.  EN 100 Writing and Language is a foundational course that offers students the opportunity to expand and sharpen their academic writing skills.  As an experienced teacher, I know that not all students arrive with the same previous experiences.  This is one challenge that I have attempted to meet head-on by engaging a number of techniques and technologies that help foster a sense of community in my classes. In my EN 100 courses students collaborate on a number of small and large projects, building on each other’s strengths and learning from one another when necessary. I also attempt to extend the learning of our course through web-based communications, like Twitter, to engage learners in a variety of conversations related to the course material. For example, particularly during election years, my students and I have carried out a number of Twitter chats during live political debates to discuss the uses of propaganda and politicalspeak. Together, we examine the language unfolding in the media around us in an attempt to become better informed.

By the end of the course, I know that most students will meet my expectations for the class.  And a few may not internalize the important concepts of our course at all.  However, I hope that at some point in the near future something we discussed, viewed, or read will resonate in their academic, professional, or personal lives. If I may but serve as a mentor or guide in those critical moments, I believe experience can truly inform those who are open to learn from it.