the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

Due to a complaint I received at the end of last semester, I have the honor of being mentored in my teaching this semester. 

I admit I didn't initially see it as an honor so much as, well, a laughable insult. My students learn, their writing improves noticeably, and they come to visit me, sometimes years later, because they miss my class, have genuine affection for me, and know that I care about them as individuals. But the secret to happiness in life (one of them, at least) is to embrace opportunity, even when you must struggle to see it as one--or perhaps especially when you must struggle to see it as one. Thus, after being angry about what I initially saw as a silly bureaucratic requirement, I decided to use it to learn all I could to improve my teaching. After all, I teach my students the same thing: Maybe you fail to see why you must take a literature class. The thing is, you have to be here, anyway, so make the most of it. Learn all you can. You never know when what you learn here might come in handy.

My mentor, a woman I have a great deal of respect for and have long considered a friend, decided that the specific point we would work on is improving my student-centered/focused learning. I like this approach. At orientation programs for the Academy, we are told to practice student-centered learning techniques, but--perhaps due to the fact that approaches vary by discipline and the orientation programs are provided for all disciplines together--we aren't really given specific ways to implement student-centered learning in our classrooms. Most of us want to learn how, but time is severely limited; we all find ourselves busy preparing syllabi and lesson plans and the ubiquitous "other duties as assigned," so research on how to improve our teaching usually slips through the cracks. 

So today, I'm looking for tips and hints to implement student-centered learning in my classroom. Well...I'm looking for ways to improve it. I already do a lot of the things I'm reading about. Possibly the single most useful bit of advice I've ever gotten, by the way, was from Lt Col Roy, a fantastic teacher who retired shortly after my first tour began at the Academy: They don't care what you know until they know that you care.

In the beginning, I thought he meant "care about them," and I think he did, but I now see it as a two-fold admonition: Students need to know that you genuinely* care about them as individuals**, but they also need to know you care about*** the material you teach.  

* They can smell a fake like dogs can smell fear, so don't even try to play-act. You either care or you don't. 

** Particularly at the Academy, I suspect, because so much of their lives are consumed with them not being seen as individuals. 

*** With shameless passion. They may never understand why you love your subject so much, but they will go to their graves trying to figure it out. 

I do these things, but how can I improve? Well...here are some thoughts from today's research. The first three of these are cribbed from this site (linky). 

1. Remember that learning must matter to the learner. The examples provided with this point are for math and music, so how can I implement these things in my composition and literature courses (while limited to specific paper assignments determined by the course director)? In classes, I almost always use discussion (and encourage respectful argument), as lecture is just, well, dry and one-way. I want to make the papers--the writing itself--appeal to them more, though. I want them to care about improving their written work. 

My thoughts on this include providing a wide variety of essays they must (as per course directors' orders) summarize, analyze, and synthesize, so they will be able to find subjects that interest them, at least. But I admit I'm at a loss as to how to engage their interest in sythesizing ideas. Even when I say that, it sounds tedious to me. 

(Suggestions invited and appreciated.) 

In literature, I'm also bound to specific major assignments. I'm looking for ways to incorporate reader response work into those assignments, though. For you non-English-major folk, "reader-response theory" simply acknowledges (and encourages) that each reader understands each text differently, just as we interpret the motivations of others and meaning of conversations differently depending upon our life experiences and education (or "lens," if you will). I've believed in this and stressed it long before I studied literary theory or knew my approach had an official name. 

I began to teach literature this way in my first semester when I realized that many of my students came to college believing they didn't "get" literature/poetry/drama. When I asked them why they thought that, they would point out that they never had the right answer. Their grade/middle/high school teachers had asked them what X poem meant, and when they explained how they themselves understood it, the teacher would tell them they were wrong, then give them the "right" interpretation--presumably what the author meant. 

Now. Being a historian myself, I am a fan of historical contextualism, and being naturally anal, I am a fan of formal criticism (in which the text is interpreted without reference to history or biographical information and presumably without consideration of the reader's lens) and I like to try to understand what the author intended, but the thing is...well, there are a couple of things. First, we can never really know what the author meant, unless he flat out said what he meant (which is rare). Second, meaning is created, like it or not, by the reader. Always. A poem legitimately means what the author intended and what it means to each reader. Third, such approaches, more often than not, crush students' enthusiasm for literature. Convince them that they don't understand it and you've lost them. 

They come to me this way--broken--and I mend them. 

2. If learners weren't required to come to your class, would they?

This should be a teacher koan, something to meditate on as we prepare our lessons. How can I find a way to help my students enjoy the discussion and, yes, learning in my class so they would come to class even if it wasn't their military duty (which it is)? 

My students used to tell me, "This is the only class I stay awake in," which I considered the supreme compliment, considering that freshmen at the Academy consistently win the "least average hours of sleep throughout freshmen year nationwide" award, hands down. Since then, many have told me, "This is the only class I look forward to," so that's something. I can always shoot to improve my numbers, though. 

How, though? I need to know more about their individual and collective interests, I think. (Fellow teachers: have you ever noticed how challenging it is to keep up with what today's "kids" are into? Yeah. I think we give up sometimes.) At the very least, I can ask them outright, make notes, then find literature/essays on those subjects. (Hey...it's a start.) 

3. What kind of assessments do you use? 

Hm. Good question. I use a lot of assessments: quizzes, low-threat short papers, and longer, more formal papers. The quizzes, while being a pain in my kids' butts, keep them honest. I use that as a figure of speech, of course, but it provides a daily or weekly barometer of whether my students are reading and understanding their homework assignments. 

Two (perhaps) unusual aspects of my quizzes are: (1) students may use any handwritten notes they have made from the readings or lecture, but not the book or typed notes, and (2) as we grade these in class, they are invited to defend their answers using the text; if they can do so, they win whatever points they're fighting for. This does garner some buy-in and even enthusiasm from them, I've noticed. 

But of course, given their 'druthers, they wouldn't take quizzes at all. Is there a better way? (Again...thoughts welcome.) 

Now I'm looking through an study my mentor sent me this morning at my request (linky). 

4. Are you interested in the students' opinions? 

I am, but I definitely could show it better. My role model on this point is Dr. Kyle Torke, a man I had the pleasure of being trained and mentored by during my first year of teaching at the Academy (AY 2006-2007). When he teaches, he asks a student a question, listens intently, then repeats what that student says in his own words before responding. Not only is this a highly recommended way to converse respectfully, but it sends the message to each student that he's actually listening to them. 

When I first saw him do it (over and over, with each student), I wondered how he did it. Frankly, in the beginning, I was so overwhelmed with the material I was trying to teach and what I wanted my students to take from it that I didn't have room for this simple act. But I do now. I need to start doing this. 

5. Do I tell my students when their work is good?

I do, but I should make a concerted effort to do it more. I'm better at complimenting students on their in-class contributions than I am at underlining particularly excellent turns of phrase in their papers and complimenting them, I think--and if anything, this is where compliments are crucial. Just as "I don't understand literature" needs to evolve into "I understand literature," "I can't write" needs to morph into "I can write well!" and "I have good ideas!"

That's probably enough on this for now. I'm interested, as always, in your thoughts and suggestions. In particular, how do you get students to invest themselves in literature? I seem to be able to do this pretty well in composition, but literature remains a challenge sometimes. 

Until next time, be excellent to one another. 

d