Teaching Journal (7): Going outside the curriculum

It’s easier to identify and address the needs of students who are struggling in the class than to be attentive to those of students who excel. Whether it’s giving feedback on assignments or expanding critical thinking through class discussions, guiding and challenging students at levels A- and below seem to be more obvious. But what about the A to A+ students? How to challenge them?

I have about five students in my class who operate at the level of MA students in terms of sophistication in thought and in writing. I felt that I can do more for them than just give them good grades and write encouraging comments on their papers.

Luckily for me, my graduate department is currently organizing a conference that is open to undergraduate students. I announced the call for papers in class and then approached the five students individually by email to encourage them to apply, suggesting that they modify their final essay proposal (which they submitted earlier in the week) into a 150-word abstract. When their abstracts are accepted, they can present their final paper (12-15 pages, a good length for a 15 minute presentation with some revision) at the actual conference.

One student declined because he is unable to attend the conference in June but appreciated my encouragement, that it is “an award in itself.” (Same student spoke a lot in class today, though he is normally shy. I wonder if it’s because he felt encouraged by my invitation to apply for the conference?) Four responded that they will apply and I helped three of them over the weekend to modify their proposals into abstracts.

I also explained to the four what to expect at a graduate conference, providing a detailed outline of who speaks when and how the discussion and Q&A period works. I had to remember what it was like being an undergraduate, not knowing what to expect and feeling insecure and intimidated at the prospect of presenting in front of a group of graduate students. I can’t attend the conference, which is unfortunate since I won’t be able to provide them with moral support and “protect” them if they face hostility in the Q&A period. But I plan to ask some of my peers to “look after them” in my place.

The abstract submission was indeed a challenge for these students. Even the student who has excelled in every aspect of the course so far expressed feelings of uncertainty and insecurity. So this whole process is not part of the curriculum at all. It’s definitely “extra” curricular work that’s not part of my job description. But it’s immensely satisfying for me to know that I’ve provided these students with meaningful and (hopefully) exciting challenges that they otherwise would not find in their regular undergraduate program. And it really was minimal work. I just had to email them and to read and edit three 150-word abstracts. With such little initiative and creativity I get such a sweet reward.

Teaching Journal (6): Plagiarism

I had my first plagiarism case of my career. I had assigned concept papers for my class, which are basically key-term papers in which students are to paraphrase an author(s)’s major concept in their own words without writing a reflection or using direct quotations from the author. I knew it would be a difficult assignment and some students struggled more than others. A few were extremely successful.

I was grading the second batch of these papers when I came across one paper with a flawless introduction. I was very impressed then moved onto the next paragraph, only to discover that the style and tone were significantly different from those of the introduction. It was as though two different people wrote the two paragraphs. Out of curiosity, I Googled the introduction and found, to my dismay, that the words were taken directly from the author’s abstract in the journal publication that preceded its appearance in the edited volume that I assigned for the class. He had changed a few words here and there but the structure was exactly the sam. Now that I discovered the plagiarism, I had to do something about it...

Luckily, I had attended an academic honesty workshop last year, conducted by a faculty member in our department. I knew from this workshop that there is a process in place that doesn’t jump to punishment and discipline. First, there is a warning; second, there is penalty for the assignment. Each step increases in severity until it reaches expulsion, I believe. I contact the student about the incident, careful to avoid using the word plagiarism, and requested a meeting at my office to which the student responded quickly. I found the form, after doing some searching on the web, at an office I can’t recall right now (in Maggie Benston Centre) and prepared my documents before meeting with the student. I didn’t know what to expect. For all I knew, he may be defensive or angry...

When the student walked in, I knew from his expression that he was terrified. I calmed him down by asking how he was, how his midterm went earlier in the day. I brought out the paper and explained how I discovered that he used the words of the author without citation. I then asked him to tell me his story. He explained that he found the assignment difficult and he researched the paper and came across the author’s abstract. Since he wasn’t allowed to use quotations, he took parts of the abstract and changed some words, thinking that it is allowed. He simply didn’t know the “rules”.

I suspect that at moments like these, an instructor is left to either believe the story or disregard it as a lie with differing consequences in the disciplining process. It’s a strange moral dilemma that places the instructor and the student in a dance of suspicion: “is he lying?”... “is she buying it?” When it comes down to it, the assignment was difficult and the student very well may not have known what to do. I could picture him huddled over his computer trying to figure out this difficult reading, particularly as a student whose first language didn’t seem to be English, and trying to meet an assignment deadline. And he had no support. This was before I had conducted my writing exercise using Peter Elbow’s video. Despite my attempts at explaining the assignment several times and providing an example with one of my own key-term papers in class, the students were left to their own devices. It just doesn’t seem realistic to me for the situation to be pared down to either lie or truth.

Then an amazing thing happened in the meeting that caught me by surprise. The student confessed that he didn’t actually understand what he was writing, pointed to various parts of his own paper and asked: “What does this mean?” We talked about his writing process for assignments and I discovered that over the years he has developed a formula on how to summarize readings without fully understanding them. I suppose the formula had worked for him so far but this assignment exposed the cracks in his process. We discussed the meaning of the concepts in the article and I suggested trying a different writing process: to write in his own words first, much like free-writing, then revise what he has wrote.

At the end, we returned to the plagiarism question at hand. I asked him what he thinks should happen. He answered that he should fail the assignment at the very least; he knew that academic dishonesty was serious, even though he didn’t know he was partaking in it. I responded that I disagree with his assessment. I gave him a warning, asked him to redo the assignment without penalty, completed the form and kept the matter between the student and I (there was no indication on the form or anywhere that the instructor is obliged to report all incidents to the department). He was surprised and we talked more about the assignment and how he can approach it. We also chatted about graduate school as he was mildly interested in pursuing a Master’s degree.

So my first plagiarism case became a teaching opportunity, rather than discipline or punishment. The same student now approaches me in class (until then he was shy and hung at the far back of the classroom) to ask questions about the final paper, runs by his ideas with me through email and has expressed interest in taking my summer course. I guess a cynic would claim that he wants to take my course because he’s pegged me for an “easy” teacher, but I’d like to think that I gained his trust as an educator. In a way it is reciprocal: I showed him that I trusted the sincerity of his mistakes and gave him guidance instead of punishment, and now he is trusting me to be his teacher again. That to me has been one of the greatest awards so far in teaching. To win that trust---because it’s not a given, nor should it be---is more affirming than hollow positive comments on student evaluations.

Teaching Journal (5): Demystify Writing

Week 8: Ever since I watched Peter Elbow On Writing (Patricia H. Mangan, 1995, MEF) with my writing group last year, I’ve been wanting to screen the video in a class. I got my chance this week. It’s a fantastic video that demystifies the writing process and begins with Elbow’s “confession” about how he flunked out of grad school the first time around because he couldn’t write... only to return and complete his PhD in English.

After screening the video, I listed Elbow’s four types of audience responses on a Powerpoint slide: 1) free-writing (no audience, private writing, lowest risk); 2) no response (someone reads your writing but provides absolutely no response); 3) response but no evaluation (someone reads your writing then echoes back what s/he thinks the piece is about: “I think you’re saying that...”); and 4) response with evaluation (someone, usually a teacher or an authority figure, reads your writing then evaluates it, highest risk).

The students were to submit their final essay proposal in two weeks so I asked them to bring their paper ideas to class this week to workshop it with peers, using Elbow’s audience response framework. I divided them into groups of similar topic areas (e.g. reproductive technologies, biomedicine, media & representation, surveillance technologies, video games) then asked them to do each activity in sequence. It wasn’t entirely successful. Students found it difficult to not respond and to respond without providing critiques or suggestions. Regardless, they seemed to enjoy the exercise for the most part and very much enjoyed the video. At least one student found the exercise uncomfortable, calling it “group therapy-like”, but I also explains that #3 and #4 audience responses is actually integrated into the peer review process in academic publishing... and so it is part of the “professional” process of writing.

A student came to see me during my office hour after class to discuss her paper and we chatted about writing in general. She really appreciated the exercise and the video, as English is her second language, and she felt that the undergraduate curriculum provides very little support and guidance for students when it comes to writing. I echo her concerns, particularly in the humanities and social sciences. Students are expected to have learned how to formulate arguments and to write an argumentative essay in high school but this skill is never fully developed in secondary education so that when students arrive at post-secondary institutions, they are expected to perform at a level that is unrealistic for them. They simply haven’t been taught... properly.

Beyond the academic, writing is a significant aspect of civic engagement: petitions, letters to government representatives, to newspapers and to corporations, and publishing on online forums, such as Facebook and other social networking sites are growing areas in which individuals contribute to thought development, governance and politics. Writing is also an important aspect of critical thinking, not only to express thought but also to develop and engage critical thought... which we all know is in dire need right now in public discourse. A simple exercise as this can help immensely to demystify the writing process and to make it more accessible and manageable for students.

Teaching Journal (4): Violence in the Classroom

Week 6: I encountered my first significant difficulty on the Biometrics, Criminality and Surveillance week. All the readings centered on the use of biometric and surveillance technology at the border in the “war on terror”. The readings were quite dense. One document the historical emergence of biometric technology (Foucauldian genealogy), two were semiotic (semi-psychoanalytic) analysis of images and text. Neither of the student presentations addressed the close reading and dwelled on a notion (not found in the readings) that border technologies are not “effective”.

Thus far, the student presentations had been well done and I began to rely on them to jump start the class discussions. The presenters for this week had grossly misread the readings and we spiralled into a strange conversation. The students were very set on “catching the terrorist” and deeply invested in the constructed notion of security. I let the students speak pop-corn style and eventually I stopped them and asked “What is a terrorist?”. In my attempt to deconstruct the binary rhetoric of security vs. threat, I asked just how much of their freedoms and rights they are willing to give up to the state in the name of security, which is itself manufactured.

One white male student claimed that he has been stopped and his files examined at the airport during travels and felt that he is willing to give up a small amount of freedom because he knows he’ll be let go at the end. I felt the violence of that statement resonate in the classroom. What do I do as an instructor in such situations? Due to my general aversion to conflict, my immediate reaction was to open it up to the class. Luckily one student critically intervened. I asked the class who has been stopped at the border or their names caught on some kind of watch-list. About five raised their hands, including the white male student. The other four were either people of colour or racially white but (as we had established in previous classes) had racialized names. I was stuck again. I didn’t want to point this out, thereby tokenizing or highlighting their marginality without their consent. But I wasn’t sure whether my point came across.

I realized that, when it comes to border security, many university students have a difficult time with critical engagement. I also realized that I don’t have the skills to deal with comments that reinforce dominant ideology and perpetuate violence in the classroom. I think that as a critical scholar committed to anti-discrimination and anti-oppression, I lack the skills and know-how to address these issues in class discussions. I’ve been drawing on my experiences from my days of queer youth organizing and AIDS education but I need more specific strategies for the classroom. The events of this class deeply affected me. I felt that I had failed some students (including the one who spoke out at the problematic comment) and failed my own politics. My friend assured me that I did the best that I could. Talking with her, I realized that I need anti-discrimination and anti-oppression training. I remember from my years in Toronto that there are community advocacy organizations who conduct such workshops in community groups and other companies/organizations. They have a wealth of knowledge and know-how in dealing with oppression in social/classroom situations . I need help to actualize and strategize my theoretical training.

editing other people's writing

I have been editing a lot of other people’s writing lately: my students’ first assignment and a close friend’s article drafts. Not only is it a delicious break from my own writing, especially if it’s a beautiful piece of work as was my friend’s fabulous analysis of zombie films, but it’s a great opportunity to hone my editing skills.

My students submitted the first (of three) concept papers early this month. I gave them the option to submit one of the three papers as a revised edit of a previous paper. This meant that I had to grade the papers differently. I ignored grammatical errors, unless they repeated consistently, and instead focused on structure and logical flow of argument. I didn’t “correct errors” but alerted the students to their weaknesses and strengths and sections where they can write with greater clarity. It took a bit longer to grade these papers but I knew the work I put in now will come back in the form of improved papers the next time around. At least I hope!

I used similar editing strategies when I read my friend’s article. I saw several incarnations of this piece, from point form notes to the final draft and at each point my friend asked me to read the piece in a certain way. For example, she asked that I comment on overall structure of argument in the point form notes. Later stages of the draft required more meticulous reading, such as sentence structures. As an editor, you have to be attuned to the needs of the writer at a given stage of their writing. There’s no point in correcting grammatical errors at the point form stage! What a waste of your time and their time. You can be spending that time to really pay attention to overall structure and “map” of argument.

While I edited my friend’s drafts, I also wrote the first working (rough) draft of one of my dissertation chapters. Being in the editing mind-space and writing at the same time proved to be extremely useful for me. I edited my own writing as I wrote, but in a different way than I did before (see Wednesday, August 27, 2008 post). I wasn’t hyper-editing to the point of censoring myself, but I would write and then look at what I’ve written to check for sentence structure (redundant? awkward? confusing?) and the sentence’s contirbution/role in the overall paragraph/section (necessary? flows logically? should be somewhere else?). I would “flag” sections I am uncertain about with a grey highlight (as I would when I’m editing someone else’s writing) and make comments to myself in Italics (“need better transition”, “put somewhere else?”).

I have a looming deadline for a working draft of my full dissertation (August!) and it’s easy for me to refuse doing anything else, much less work on other people’s writing. But it’s all part of improving and fine-tuning my writing skills at all stages of writing, which includes editing. There’s the added bonus of reading something other than my own writing (that I stare at day in and day out) and subject matter (look! zombies!!).

Teaching Journal (3): Close reading exercise

Week 5: I tried something completely new today, what I decided to call "close reading exercise." It turned out that a student had dropped the course and one of the readings for this week did not have an assigned student presenter. I had initially decided to lecture on it myself but then I came up with a different plan.

The students had just submitted their first concept paper, which is basically a key-term paper and so relies on close reading of text and comprehension. Yet I've come to realize, as a former undergraduate myself, that students are not really taught how to read these texts that often use sophisticated stylistic devices, such as irony and imagery. I keep wondering just how much students fully understand the readings. Or are they assuming the meaning of what they read? Or are they projecting what they want to read?

I divided the article, "Straw men and their followers" by Evelynn Hammonds, into four sections and divided the class into four groups. Each group was responsible for reading one section, summarize it, point out the arguments, identify stylistic devices and style of reasoning. I wanted to give them about 10 mins for the exercise but the discussions were quite lively and it was obvious to me that they were really engaging with one another and with the text so I let it go on for 20 mins.

At the very least from the immediate verbal feedback, students pointed out that there were slight discrepancies in how they read the text but also how each person ended up contradicting her/himself in trying to encapsulate Hammonds' argument. They pointed out stylistic devices, such as tone, sarcasm, irony, use of air quotes and rhetorical questions and the ways in which these devices help to support her argument.

Some of the drawbacks of this exercise were that, because students were given sections of an article, they weren't aware of the bigger picture in the argument. There were some misunderstandings and confusion as a result. But I pointed out that this confusion points to the importance of argumentative flow and completeness, as well as writings that get taken out of context, which not only happens in academia but also journalism and everyday interactions.

I personally found the exercise helpful. It gave me a chance to see how they read. And I think it did the same for them... at least, that's what I hope. I ended the exercise by explaining my rationale. We are so well trained to critique, critique, critique that we forget to really pay attention to what someone writes and honour their position as well as the work they have put into their work. I asked whether anyone has had an experience where they were arguing with someone but it turned out they were arguing about completely different things or were actually arguing for the same thing. This happens in academic writing as well. Misreading and misunderstanding are fairly common. Close-reading and writing concept papers are part of my effort to develop skills in meaningful critique, which I believe starts with close-reading and comprehension.

Teaching Journal (2): Politics of humour

Week 4: The topic of this week was Classifying Difference, specifically race and sex/gender. I hadn't established ground rules or a learning contract with the students yet so I decided that this week would be a good time to do this, partially as a way to mitigate potentially problematic comments. I explained the usual points, such as respect (as pointed out by one of the students) and "I" statements. But I knew I wanted to really qualify the meaning of "respect."

One of the things I emphasized was that we need to pay careful attention to humour, that what we find funny is highly political. I asked the students, "What do we find funny?" After a brief moment of silence, one student answered, "A dog on a skateboard." Giggles from class. I asked, "Why is that funny?" Quiet. The same student mumbled something about a dog doesn't go on a skateboard normally. More giggles.

I took it up at this point and pointed out how a lot of humour is based on transgressing or pushing against boundaries of normality. So the image of a dog on a skateboard is funny because it blurs the boundary between human and dog. Dogs are supposed to be a certain way and not a certain way, i.e. human-like. Similarly, there are many different types of boundaries that can be crossed that could culturally register as humorous.

I decided on addressing politics of humour on a whim but I realized it's a great way to bridge discrimination at a conceptual level and at a practical level by engaging in how it manifests itself in everyday life.

Sometimes students are quite brilliant at coming up with the right examples, often without realizing it. It was a close one because I sure didn't have an example of something humorous! Dog on skateboard. I'm tucking that one away for future use.