Doctor Grandma

Reading “The courage to teach”, Chapter 2 is on fear. The actual title is, “A Culture of Fear: Education and the disconnected life.”

At this point, I don’t think I am very fearful. But it’s true, fear is connected to education for student and professor/teacher/instructor. There is always fear. For the student, it’s fear of failing, or for many today, fear of not getting an A. I remember when I got my first (and ONLY) “B” in Graduate school. My major professor said, “It’s about time!” Well you know, a C in graduate school means you take the class over again. It means you didn’t pass.

As we go on in academia, everyone develops their own “teaching philosophy”. When you apply for a teaching job, they always want you to talk or write about your teaching philosophy. With experience, we shift and change our beliefs on that whole process.

I see nothing wrong with tests, nor with the dreaded “comprehensive final exam”. Well, did you learn anything? What did you learn that you will take with you, that you retain to the end and beyond? That’s what a comprehensive final is about. But it also measures, how many names, theories and concepts can you memorize the night before the final? I know that. I still think it’s a good exercise. Is it connected to fear? Yes, but it also measures preparation, discipline, and hopefully, putting some of those concepts into practical application. That’s where my tests are difficult. It’s not “match this word with the correct definition,” it’s more “Study this example and explain which theory it illustrates and why you think so.” It’s all in the “why you think so”. Can you put your thoughts on paper? Can you recognize this theory in action? I have students who can’t understand the concept of “institutional discrimination”. Women couldn’t vote in Federal elections in the U.S. until 1920. From 1776 to 1920, by Federal law, women couldn’t vote. Is that not institutional? Part of the institution of government, law, the structure of our society? (Of course, Black women were beaten and worse for trying to register to vote in the early 1960s. That’s institutional as well because we all let it go on. Until it got so horrible and on TV sets in people’ living rooms and the cart went over the top of the hill and down the other side toward change. Lyndon B. Johnson didn’t WANT to sign the Voting Rights Act of 1965 and Civil Rights Act of 1964, any more than Woodrow Wilson wanted to give women the vote in 1920, but it was time.)

The Cherokee WON their case in the Georgia Supreme Court to not be sent westward to Oklahoma on the Trail of Tears. Pres. Andrew Jackson didn’t care and enforced it with Federal troops and one-fourth of them died en route. Is that not institutional?

My teaching philosophy doesn’t mind testing students. However, there are many ways to LEARN. The important thing is to think and learn SOMETHING. So I give many other ways to earn points, including various assignments, online discussions, experiments, movie reviews, and SOME extra credit– not for one person who begs during the last week of class, but for every student in the class, at regular intervals throughout the semester. We also do some things for fun, like games, role plays, and now on zoom, “breakout room activities”. I must admit, though, I have not mastered these talents in online classes.

But back to fear. Yes, fear is real in Instructors. Fear of being fired for saying “too much” or too little. Fear of not getting tenure, the worst bag of trash policy ever invented. Fear of not getting published, of not being accepted into a new institution, fear of bad reviews by students, or fear of failure in the classroom. Fear of asking those questions and being met with silence, fear of being boring, fear of not being able to “entertain”. Ugh. We are not entertainers.

I have pretty much come to terms with my own inadequacies and flaws as well as my skills. I care deeply and am willing to work with anyone on their grade. That’s the best I can do. I am firm on honesty and integrity. Cheating gets you a 0. Copying someone else’s work: 0. Other than that, you have enough opportunity to earn points various ways.

I will say this. As a graduate student, you have fear. Fear of course of not getting your PhD. Fear of your committee rejecting your work. It ALL has the effect of KEEPING YOU QUIET. Before grad school, my husband and I would have people over all the time, different types of people, different status and race and culture. After grad school, it would not be appropriate for a student to have their professor over, as a friend, on the same level. It is just not done. And the bias goes on from there. Perpetuation of status and the hierarchy. As a professor, there is status according to what you teach. The sciences get more money (more grants for the school), more status in society. The Liberal Arts, not so much. Who publishes more? and in which journals? It makes a difference. In salary. I am more of the calibre of a Georg Simmel, publishing in popular journals and not academic, and the most liked of all the professors. (I am not the most-liked but I do ok.)

So in short, we have to come to terms with our fears, and our realities, then decide how we are going to live with them, see which fears we care to change, and do something constructive in this world, in our own small way. God-willing.

I am reading a book called “The courage to teach: Exploring the inner landscape of a teacher’s life”. 20th anniversary ed. The concept is interesting and unique: it’s not about your teaching method, using all the right ways to reach “students today”. It is about exploring your own identity & inner workings of your heart & spirit as a teacher, so that you connect better with your own inner self and then, perhaps, your students. I find the concept refreshing,

Chapter 1, the Heart of a teacher, Identity and integrity in teaching.

Some thoughts: Who were my mentors?

For sure, my main mentor was my dad. Even though he didn’t live long enough for me to really know him as a teacher, as his child, I could see the effects. I could *feel* his love for teaching. We could see his love for his graduate students, who he would invite over to our house for dinner, one at a time. So our house was often filled with African and Indian students who came, smiled at us, were welcomed and treated as a fine guest in our home. As I have now been through graduate school, I realize how absolutely rare this is.

Secondly, he worked all weekend and most nights. On Saturdays he would be at the large dining room table, his papers all over it, working. But he worked in the midst of a family of 4 kids running around him, interrupting him to tell him something that happened or to ask a question. He never minded this. I don’t remember him ever being really angry. When he would get upset, he would walk out of the room.

Three, he was a seeker of truth. He questioned himself. He wondered about God but left it to the universe to show him He was real. He was a scientist at heart, loved studying rocks and fossils, taking vacations many times out West to look for them. They are all now lost “to the universe” as many things got lost over the years of moving. There was a rock collection which is now distributed amongst some of my kids, and some friends.

I never understood the Engineering world he lived in, but he was recognized in Who’s Who of Engineering more than once. He always put family first, or that’s how he made us feel. The most important thing in the world was just spending time with him, and he gave us that.

MENTORS. Another one of my favorite teachers was Miss Burkitt in 5th grade, the year my family lived in Michigan. What was great about that year & her teaching? She was very creative as a teacher, very forward-thinking, not afraid to try new things.
She had us correspond with kids in Scotland, or the Isle of Skye. We had pen pals. We also, for some reason, corresponded with men who worked on a ship, & it was an exciting day when we received letters back.

She let me work ahead in a math book, and I covered most of it in half a year. She made me feel smart. And one time, when I misbehaved, got mad at another student and threw a block at him (when we were stuck inside for recess due to weather), she did not play favorites and marched me to the Principal’s office. This year was also the year Pres. Kennedy was shot, and I remember that day. She came into the classroom and told us he had been shot. Then she came back, told us he had died, was crying, and we all went home. 5th grade for me.

MENTORS. I really don’t remember any outstanding mentors during junior high and high school. I just did my work, quietly, as a student. I liked learning, and I knew how to excel on tests.

Mentors in College. First of all, I finished college at the age of 42, my Bachelors. Then I just kept going, got my Masters and then PhD by age 55. It was all very difficult and challenging. That’s a story for another day.

MENTORS in upper-level classes include Dr. Anthony Lemelle, who opened my mind to so many things I had never studied before, including Ronald Takaki, African American history, Gay/Lesbian issues and the daily humiliation they experience, the lives of Black men in America, scholars of Critical theory (including Critical race theory), Cultural theory and non-Western thought such as Edward Said.

Women professors introduced me to Intersectionality, Feminist thought and theory, and Black feminist thought, Drs. Patricia Boling, Sandra Barnes, Rachel Einwohner, Siobhan Summerville.

Others taught me more about Critical and Marxist thought, Dr. Kevin Anderson, Dr. Leonard Harris.

My major professor, Dr. Jack Spencer taught me about micro-theory, Erving Goffman, Grounded theory (which is actually a method), how to look at everyday life and see insights into larger social issues. The rest of the people on my committee I never related to well. They were there to assist, but their own bickering with each other nearly killed me and my studies.

Through it all, Graduate school is pretty much hell. It took me away from my family, it consumed my life. I made it. Looking back, what I learned was worth it. The rest of it, even the jobs afterward, I don’t think were really worth it. The only way it was all worth it was that hardship, the torment of self-doubt, being ridiculed, having to study as if your life literally depended upon it, all the HELL that it brings, teaches you something about yourself, how far you are willing to and ABLE to go, in order to get through something. It teaches you your own strength. And gives you a compassion and understanding of what others are going through, which they may not show or talk about outwardly.

My subsequent career has taught me that you never know what’s coming around the next corner. It taught me you can do your BEST, do a great job, and people will judge you wrongly. Because of rumors, accusations that are not true, or just because they want to, and they can.

Secondly, as I kept going it taught me that I have the ability to land on my feet, to always step to the next stage in life and do well. It taught me that God truly is with me, is with us all. We are only responsible for what we can, ourselves, control. We cannot sometimes control how others will judge us, and that is their responsibility, their mistake, and if you will, their loss. I also learned that I have limits. And if administrations never hear you, after many tries, they never will. It is your choice to stay or go. You are never forced into anything. Take responsibility and make a choice for your life.

At this point, I am at a new stage of trying to give what I can the best I can, to students I now have. So I am off on tangents but thinking through what all I have learned through this journey to and through Academia. Who were my mentors took me into this discussion. And that is only Chapter 1.