“You don’t need to be nervous with us”
I don’t remember a lot about my first library session, but I have a really clear memory of that comment from a student feedback form. I have never figured out exactly what they meant — I didn’t need to be nervous with this class, this group of students, specifically? The nerves were unnecessary, full stop? But I do know what it meant to me at the time. It meant that yes, they noticed I was nervous. I didn’t like that. But it made me feel like they saw me as a person, hoped I saw them as people, and I did like that.
It would have been 2003. I was in a part-time wage appointment covering history for the OSU libraries. I was an intern working on a metadata project and the librarians found out that I also taught history (as an adjunct). They were about to launch a triple search – hiring three new subject librarians – and maybe I could cover one of their subject gaps! Within the week I had my first instruction request.
I visited the archives a few times as a history major and as a history graduate student, but I have no memory of going to the library for a traditional one-shot. So I didn’t really have a mental model I could use to prepare for this class. I remember a colleague — a wonderful and supportive mentor — sharing activities I could do and concepts I should demonstrate.
The class went fine. My colleague observed. I was more nervous than I expected to be because I didn’t know what to expect. None of the strategies and identities I had developed in my teaching career really helped me in this strange new context — learning names, building habits, building trust over time — so I felt very without a net. And I’m afraid of heights at the best of times. As we know, my nerves were visible, even though I didn’t name them. Now I always name them. The professor wasn’t thrilled, wasn’t disappointed. It was fine. The students, as you know, were kind. At least, I don’t remember those who weren’t.
I do remember this one feeling. Something had gone off script, something unexpected had come up in the example and I remember this intense feeling of wanting to scrap the plan and do something else but also feeling paralyzed about that — I can’t or shouldn’t — because the person who helped me make the plan was sitting right there watching*.
This post was inspired by Veronica’s Blushing, Sweating, Stammering — the first in a new series — that sent me down a winding path of memories this morning. One thing I realized as I thought about those “firsts” was how often the help I got took the form of “here’s some things from my teaching and my practice that you can take and use.” My first class, first conference presentation, even first reference interactions, I was encouraged to use other people’s materials, guides, activities, plans, outlines, etc. I get it – I didn’t have much of my own yet, and there are a lot of safe feelings tied up in the tried and true.
Looking back, I’m okay with the way I floundered when I needed to adapt on the fly within the constraints of someone else’s teaching. I’ve learned that the real thinking work for facilitating isn’t about how to fill the time, or how specific activities should go. It’s about flow, connections and transitions, and what I want the experience to look and feel like. But the second part – feeling stuck because of the colleague in the room — is different. That’s something I’m still working on. And really, the first and the second things are connected. I like to get things started, hold space, and let things happen – those are important parts of my teaching and my facilitating identity. But even though I co-teach and co-facilitate a lot I still have a lot to learn about doing those things in the moment and with other people. I still get caught, in the moment and in my head and get stuck on how to make choices together that I would have no trouble making on my own.
I’ve been thinking about this lately in present tense — past me is shaking up that thinking in some really good ways. Here’s to remembering firsts.
*To be clear, I am pretty sure she would have had no problem with my going off script, wouldn’t have felt her labor was disrespected, would have been super into talking through what I did and why I did it. This paralysis was created by the pretend standards I made up in my head and imposed on her.
Well, after saying last year that we never accomplish this goal, this year we did. It did take a last-minute decision to take New Years’ Eve off, but that was something that might have happened anyway.
(Why movies? I wrote about it last year & the reasons haven’t changed)
We haven’t had our final best movies in the theater discussion yet, but the titles in bold are the ten that would be in the running for me. As always, these are based on a personal and idiosyncratic set of criteria. Your mileage may vary. Plus, I can’t promise that these would be the same ten I would pick tomorrow.
If Beale Street Could Talk
On the Basis of Sex
Stan & Ollie
Isn’t it Romantic
Oscar Nominated Documentary Shorts*
Ruben Brandt, Collector
Woman at War
Satan & Adam*
All is True
Echo in the Canyon*
The River and the Wall*
The Last Black Man in San Francisco
The Bikes of Wrath*
Once Upon a Time in Hollywood
Toni Morrison: The Pieces I Am*
Sword of Trust
Blinded by the Light
Mike Wallace Is Here*
David Crosby: Remember My Name*
Linda Ronstadt: The Sound of My Voice*
One Child Nation*
Where Is My Roy Cohn?*
Pain and Glory
Ford vs. Ferrari
A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood
The Two Popes
The asterisks denote documentaries. The number of documentaries on this list shows that it was, overall, a weaker year for movies than last year was. At least, it was a a weaker year for movies-that-showed-in-Corvallis-theaters than last year was. Even when things are limited, there is usually a documentary of some interest playing somewhere. And our bar for documentaries is lower, because even when the craft is low, there is still a chance we might learn something.
To be fair, there are some movies that are probably very extremely good that we have not seen, and will not see, because I do not do horror imagery. For some reason, those images have an outsized effect on me and I can’t shake them. I don’t mean garden-variety violence; some of the images I still see when I can’t sleep aren’t that violent. Anyway, The Lighthouse and Parasite did play here, but I kept us from seeing them.
Leigh Patel (2019): Fugitive Practices: Learning in a Settler Colony, Educational Studies, DOI: 10.1080/00131946.2019.1605368.
Paywall: Taylor and Francis
None, really thanks to some information privilege. The article is paywalled, obviously. It doesn’t show up in any of our indexes yet because it’s still an early article, not really published. So I had to do the ILL request manually. At this point, even the ILL request form no longer requires page numbers or anything else that would be hard with a preprint, so the main issue there was knowing that I needed to and could do it.
I submitted the request before logging onto Zoom for an online meeting, and had the article before the meeting was over.
This is a short article that is more a call to action than a traditional scholarly piece. Patel argues that educators and educational researchers should resist and reject dominant narratives about learning (narratives that are infused and sustained by settler colonialism) to see the practices that create real learning — learning that sustains in the face of violent erasure and dehumanization — which are there in what has been erased.
And here we go…
“The stories that individuals tell about themselves, their people, their nation, other people, and success or failure all have material force in the shape and functions that institutions perform in society.” — page 1
Patel starts by giving a whirlwind summary of U.S. history, national-narrative style — one that starts with religious-freedom seeking European settlers and ends with Barack Obama’s election marking the end of racism. In between we touch on westward expansion, American exceptionalism, bootstraps and rugged individuals, melting pots, freedom and this land of opportunity.
Slavery is in there, but mostly as an unfortunate (and past) period of time. Settler colonialism is “rarely mentioned” and flourishes in that silence.
Patel pulls out a few key characteristics of this story: it is linear and progressive — concepts illustrated perfectly by American Progress, a painting so perfect you probably thought of it when you heard “westward expansion” even if you didn’t know what it was called. It is also a story that is built on, names and entrenches what Patel calls “hierarchies of humanness.” And, of course, in the American story we have to start with the fact that these hierarchies are historically and currently racial
“The perpetuation of the myth that race is biological categorically served the purposes of rendering Black, Indigenous and other people of color as belonging to groups that were less than human.” — page 3.
After this introduction, we go on to dig into some of these concepts as Patel establishes the theoretical lenses we need, starting with settler colonialism and education.
ERASE and REPLACE
Drawing on Veracini, 2011 Patel describes these as the “core concept and organizing principle” of settler colonialism, and then she digs deeper into the ways that settler colonialism shapes our understanding of: how we know what we know, what counts as knowing, and the policy and practice built on this shared epistemology. Key elements to this epistemology include:
- Property has value; knowledge is property.
- Achievement is individual.
- Learning is linear and progressive.
Think about how an epistemology that reflects values rooted in land — as an interconnected, living, life-giving, shared thing — would shift our understanding of learning, achievement and knowledge.
So that brings us to the second lens, learning as fugitive.
Patel uses descriptions of the many ways that enslaved peoples shared teaching and learning in secret, when being literate was illegal for them. And while some of this fugitivity is about those concrete practices, some of it is about shared epistemology –how people in this context knew what they knew — starting from a recognition that the truth is not always what is taught, that those national histories that that say some are lesser than and erase others, are not unassailable truth even as they are presented as such.
This fugitivity, this resistance, is not just an individual thing. Dominant cultures are dominant, but they are not the only. There are counternarratives and countercultures that exist at the same time, and these are seen in individuals and communities and in activism and social movements, movements that are frequently sparked and carried forward by young people.
Which brings us to the call to action…
Educational researchers (and educators) should shift away from questions of achievement, grounded in the individualist, property-focused progressivism of settler colonialism, towards questions that focus on what learning really is. And she further argues that the moment we are living in makes this shift essential — “an imperative moment.” She doesn’t deny that this kind of shift could never be neutral or safe and she argues that the risks she’s talking about aren’t romantic, but necessary.
Educational studies scholars can bring in the history, the contextual accuracy of settler state desires, and raise up the authentic and purposeful learning that has been passed from generation to generation. — page 8
Harney, S. & Moten, F. 2013. The undercommons: Fugitive planning and black study.
Mignolo, W.D. 2012. Local histories/ global designs: Coloniality, subaltern knowledges, and border thinking. Princeton University Press.
Sleeter, C.E. 2017. Critical race theory and the whiteness of teacher education. Urban Education, 52(2), 155-169.
- This is paywalled (though it might be available out there perhaps on one of those for-profit scholarly social article places) BUT the author has done an open summary here on her blog.
Veracini, L. 2011. Introducing: Settler colonial studies. Settler Colonial Studies, 1(1), 1-12. (PDF at the Swinburne University of Technology repository)
Wynter, S. 2003. Unsettling the coloniality of being/power/truth/freedom: Toward the human, after man, its overrepresentation — An argument. CR: The New Centennial Review, 3(3), 257-337.
- This is paywalled but it might be out there if you did some searching, I mean maybe. BUT there is an extensive discussion of this article out there on the Always Already critical theory podcast. I haven’t listened to it, but hey, that’s pretty cool.
Link to preprint at the Carolina Digital Repository
Amelia N. Gibson & John D. Martin III. Re-Situating Information Poverty: Information Marginalization and Parents of Individuals with Disabilities. JASIST. Preprint. February 11, 2019. https://doi.org/10.1002/asi.24128
Paywall: Wiley, accessed via Interlibrary Loan
ETA: There is a copy now available at the Carolina Digital Repository. Yay for authors’ rights!
Hoo boy. So. First, I couldn’t find this article in our discovery layer, most likely because it’s is an “early view” article and not yet in an official issue. So I had to search on the journal and browse. But I hit a paywall even though my institutional credentials were showing up, and everything looked like I should have access. Since I have been around long enough to remember the time when we cut our library science journals to keep from having to cut other fields’ journals, I suspected that that access was pretend, but you never know, things change in journal packages. I reported the issue to the wonderful people in our E-resources department, who responded within the hour to let me know the real deal, and I placed an ILL request manually. I had the article in my possession within a half of a working day.
Stuff I needed to know to make this work: 1) multiple ways to query the discovery layer; 2) that the volume field in the ILL form will accept any info; 3) to use the Notes field on the ILL form to explain the access issue.
NOW. I feel like it is important to say here that I am not listing these access issues as evidence that we are not doing our jobs in my library. These are all issues that are inherent to a landscape where you’re dealing with a bunch of different contracts, a bunch of different publishers with their own paywalls and platforms, bundles, consortial partnerships, and those are just one part of the complexity. No library is going to be playing error-free ball in this information world; what matters is how quickly we are set up to help when these barriers emerge.
I loved loved this article. It applies a critical lens to the information practices of an important population with important needs (moms of children with Downs Syndrome or autism), and the additional theoretical work that the authors have done is sparking thinking about my practice that is super useful, both in an immediate and an extended sense. Basically, this article uses Chatman’s 1996 model of information poverty, with a particular focus on the intentional, defensive behaviors (including secrecy and deception) that people experiencing information poverty use in risky information-seeking situations. The researchers identify both individual and community-based defensive behaviors and use this data to theorize beyond existing models, which keep their focus on individual behaviors. The authors present a theory of information marginalization, which considers the structural factors and context that create information poverty.
And here we go…
So, one thing off the top – there’s some really useful, clear, definitions in this piece:
- Information inequity: “the idea that some people have greater difficulty finding, accessing, accepting or using information than others” (1)
- Information poverty: “a persistent lack of information access as experienced by a group or individual, usually as a result of social factors, embodied by various types of information-related inequalities” (1) (Haider & Bawden, 2007; Yu, 2006)
- Information marginalization: “the systematic, interactive socio-technical processes that can push and hold certain groups of people at social “margins,” where their needs are persistently ignored or overlooked.” (1)
We start by situating the argument, and this time – it’s within the research discourse on information behavior. Specifically, a reason people point to as moral justification for doing information behavior research in the first place is the existence of information inequity and information poverty. Most of this research focuses on the behavior(s) of the individual experiencing that inequity or poverty. It doesn’t look at the institutional context, or the structures that create poverty. “This article pivots away from a focus on the individual toward development of a theory of information marginalization.” (1)
The authors spend some time situating and summarizing a specific article — Chatman (1996) — which is a key to understanding how information poverty works, and which pushed the existing discourse in its day to deal with the fact that information poverty reflects something deeper than that which can be fixed by simply adding more resources.
Six characteristics that people experiencing information poverty perceive (Chatman 1996):
- I lack information sources or access to them.
- I am at the lower end of existing class systems.
- I need to defensively protect myself when I have to seek info from potentially unsafe people.
- Secrecy or deception about my information need is fine if I need it to feel safe.
- I have to weigh the risks of seeking info against the benefits of having it.
- I will selectively integrate new information to my info worldview
Now, as important as this particular article was, it didn’t really get into (and the literature it inspired didn’t get into) the structural factors in play. Neither has the information science literature around disability.
And with that, we’re ready to more specifically name the problem(s) and questions.
Themes: information access, information poverty, and structures of information marginalization.
Research focus: Mothers of people with Down syndrome and autism
Theoretical model and method: Critical Disability: approaching disability as something made up of individual differences AND socially constructed barriers. This study is built out of a “critical, constructivist grounded theory perspective”
“…we acknowledge that we ourselves (as researchers, educators, and in the case of the first author, as the mother of a child with a disability) are positioned within the social contexts described in this article. From the interview through the data analysis process, we acknowledge the research as being co-constructed between the researchers and the participants (Charmaz, 2014).”
- How do participants describe their information practices and information seeking experiences? Do they fit Chatman’s theory?
- “What contextual factors contribute to defensive info behaviors and knowledge practices as described by participants.? How can we theorize the relationship between contextual factors and information practices customarily described as indications of information poverty?”
- “What are the implications of focusing primarily on improving contextual factors, rather than changing individual or community information practices?”
The information needs of this particular group of people are big and important, and also quite specific. These needs differentiate them from other parents, and they also change situationally – as children age, from place to place, etc.
A note on language: The authors also take a moment to discuss their use of language (people first language to refer to individuals, and identity-first language to refer to communities), and acknowledge that the language around disability is contested. They have chosen to use the language used by study participants, even when that doesn’t reflect current trends.
So, let’s dig into the concept of information poverty
Overall, the literature in this area continues to reflect an “cultural deficit model” that compares what people deemed information poor DO against mainstream, institutional cultural standards that reflect mainstream, dominant assumptions and standards — white, male, heterosexual, U.S. based, English speaking, etc.
Basically, there are unexamined, uncritical assumptions embedded within this discourse — that there is a “right” way to access information, that there are “right” amounts and types of information, etc. The value and effectiveness of those existing systems aren’t questioned — neither in general, nor for the specific population being examined. This orientation extends to disability.
“This narrow focus on individual behaviors, rather than contextual preconditions for those behaviors also frees information science researchers from the obligation to understand how marginalization works. This, in turn, limits our ability to develop information systems (human, and machine) that reflect and respond to the needs of communities at the margins.”
Population: a “purposive, theoretically driven sample” (Charmaz, 2014) – 24 moms of individuals with Down Syndrome or autism.
Semi-structured interviews, based on the information horizons protocol (Sonnewald, Wildemuth & Harmon, 2001).
Data was coded individually. Researchers met weekly to compare codes, discuss emerging themes and discuss their way through coding conflicts.
Themes were identified using constant comparative analysis, but the researchers didn’t claim or try to start from a tabula rasa point. Instead, Chatman’s theory provided a starting point for coding. Later rounds of coding focused on “identification of defensive, proactive, or coping behaviors and contextual factors that contributed to those behaviors” (4).
Information marginalization factors were identified and grouped — four main clusters emerged. For each of these clusters, the authors present a table that includes:
- The factor they have identified and named, broken down into specific dimensions.
- The individual knowledge behaviors and/or defensive behaviors associated with that factor.
- The community-level practices and/or defensive behaviors associated with that factor.
- Examples of data that the researchers associated with that factor.
I’m not going to give you all of that information for each one, but if you’re interested and can track down the article, there is way more in here.
First cluster: Perceived information deficits
This included the perception that info couldn’t be trusted or was being withheld. This was especially important when it came to information about rights.
Defensive behaviors include (but are not limited to):
- Individual behaviors like: seeking info from other parents instead of professionals; intentionally seeking information from inside or outside of the local community, depending on the situation; fighting or advocating; building strategic professional relationships; being visible and present.
- Community behaviors like: Social media group development or participation; information seeking/distribution by organizations; being visible & active in the local non-disability community.
Second cluster: Class distinctions
This included a lack of access to info or resources because of the level of disability, information that requires a high level of reading skills or education to navigate; barriers put up by racial bias, economic factors, etc.
Defensive behaviors include:
- Individual behaviors like: waiting/ hoping/ expressing disappointment; making judgments about personal infolit relative to other parents; uncertainty about paying for services; actively seeking racially diverse settings; hiring private consultants.
- Community behaviors like: pooling resources; perceived variations in access to information (e.g. subject saying “things are okay for me, but wouldn’t be for others”)
Third cluster: Situational relevance assessment.
Inadequate support for age (particularly the age of the child), racial and gender subgroups.
Defensive behaviors include:
- Individual behaviors like choosing friend/support group based on these same factors (e.g. age of child).
- Community behaviors: development of cliques or micro-communities.
Fourth cluster: Risk assessment/ Selective introduction of information
This section describes the behaviors parents engaged in to protect themselves from perceived threats (direct threats to children, or threats to the parents’ ability to find information) in their environment, and to increase their agency.
Defensive behaviors include:
- Individual behaviors like: avoiding seeking info from institutions, or using their own, secret, rubric to evaluate what they hear. Emotions like feeling overloaded, feeling bullied.
- Community behaviors like establishing a social norm of person to person info sharing.
Basically, the specific things experienced by these specific individuals navigating these specific situations matter. And the behaviors they feel they need to engage in to navigate these situations safely also matter — to them, and to those of us who share a mission to get them the information they need to do that navigation.
Gibson and Martin, though, are making an argument that theorizes beyond these specifics to name a broader phenomenon: information marginalization. They look at the information behaviors that they observe and explain them not as errors but as rational responses (developed by individuals and by communities) to injustice. This is really important. Re-framing these behaviors in this way reveals a whole different set of solutions to the problems that these mothers face:
“Although some time, energy, and resources should clearly be dedicated to ensuring that these mothers have the information seeking and literacy skills to successfully find desired information and make quality judgments, equal, if not more, emphasis should be placed on ensuring that the information systems they use are intentionally and thoughtfully designed so they do not prompt mothers to engage in defensive information practices in the first place.” (10)
And a whole different way of looking at our practice:
“If we acknowledge that what we call information poverty is often a result of systemic failure of information systems to meet the needs of marginalized groups of people, we must also acknowledge that the solution lies in the development and improvement of those systems, rather than existentialist statements about those groups of people. This might also demand reassessment of the field’s own constructions of relevance, quality, and authority, and centering of a diverse range of information values, rather than imposition of those currently embraced by the field.” (11)
This article was recommended all over my twitter the other day, and the topic looks pretty interesting. So let’s launch a new (hopefully) regular feature, Behind the Paywall.
Alanna Gillis. “Reconceptualizing Participation Grading as Skill Building.” Teaching Sociology, 47:1, 10-21. January 2019. DOI: 10.1177/0092055X18798006
The Access Experience
Paywall: Sage, accessed at my library.
I had a lot of trouble loading the PDF, which I blamed on my local wifi for a while. Seriously, for a college town, we have terrible wifi options in Corvallis. But when the same thing happened a few days later, and everything else around it loaded okay? I think it was clearly a problem with Sage.
Untangling everything that is wrong with how we measure and reward class participation would take forever. Not only do our dominant methods rely on instructors to be free from bias and have perfect recall, but they rest on assumptions about students’ willingness, ability and preparedness to participate in class that are deeply problematic. By continuing to reward participation in these ways, teachers — even when they do not want to — are replicating and reinforcing inequalities. Reframing class participation as a skill-building opportunity and building in robust opportunities for students to reflect on their performance is a better way to go.
Here we go…
So we start off by situating this paper within the context of teaching and learning in the classroom. We know that students who are engaged and participating in class learn more. Knowing this, professors have an interest in motivating students to participate, so many of them grade class participation.
I am liking this problem statement in its recognition that the target audience has spent many years in school, knows that participation grading is a thing, and doesn’t need eight different citations showing that to be true. The author goes on to say, yes, I haven’t done any systematic inquiry to nail down objective participation grading themes, but I also don’t have to pretend we don’t all know what we know. And based on living in the world as both students and teachers, we know that there are two basic ways that participation grading works:
- Teacher gives grades based on recall. A few times a term (or once at the end) they remember how many times each student talked, and assign a grade based on that.
- Teacher gives grades based on actually counting how many times students talk during the term. More complex applications of this method might count specific types of participation (asking questions, answering questions, etc.).
There are issues with both of these methods. Teachers do not have perfect recall. Teachers are human and subject to bias in all the ways humans are biased. And, finally, more talking does not necessarily mean more learning.
OH. I think this next bit though is why this paper is getting so much love. It’s because it goes down to the next level and points out that the deeper problem with all of this participation grading is that these method of motivating class participation are built on several problematic assumptions: that all students are equally prepared to speak in class; that students all understand class participation in the same way; that students have all been rewarded (or not) for classroom behaviors in the same way; that all students are bringing the same skill set to the classroom.
There’s truly no reason to believe that those things are true. And there are a lot of good reasons to believe that they are not.
Gillis has three intersecting goals in this paper:
- Unpack the assumptions behind participation grading as it happens most frequently now.
- Re-frame participation grading as an opportunity for skill development, and re-focus it on more meaningful goals.
- Show the evidence that says this new framework is worth implementing in real classrooms.
Let’s unpack some assumptions.
We know student evals of teachers are super biased. We acknowledge and understand that that bias works in both directions: students’ biases affect their evaluations of teachers AND teachers’ biases affect their evaluations of students. However, when it comes to participation grading, we have a tendency to acknowledge that bias as a reality without really understanding or unpacking its dynamics.
(I’m going to summarize the lit review pretty significantly, and link to some key sources)
The research documents general biases that affect student evaluation: teachers tend to reward students they like, squishy factors like attitude affect evaluations, and factors like race, gender, ability, and socioeconomic class definitely affect assessment in many ways.
We also know that we work in a world where teachers don’t always remember their students’ names, so systems that rely on accurate recall are inherently suspect. But the issues with memory go beyond this. Teachers are more likely to remember extreme situations (outbursts, falling asleep in class) than mundane normalcy. Teachers tend to remember giving students more chances to participate than students remember getting.
There is also a ton of research that challenges the idea that all students are equally ready and willing to participate in class. There are a ton of things going into how students are socialized to understand their role in the classroom, or what appropriate interactions with teachers look like. Some come from outside school — parents’ messages to children are shaped by their own experiences with school or authority structures, for example. Some come from the lived experience of being in school. Students bring very different experiences with consequences and rewards when it comes to asking questions, offering opinions, sharing stories, suggesting counternarratives, and classroom behavior. And all of these dynamics — inside the school and out — are shaped by factors (including race, gender, class, ability, language and more) that create and reinforce inequality, and which also need to be analyzed and understood intersectionally.
Then, we have one of the most pervasive dynamics in the teaching literature, at least in the literature that focuses on motivation and learning. There is a lot of work in this area coming from psychology, using lenses that focus inquiry on personality. This shapes the discourse and produces research (and policy) that frames behaviors like class participation as the result of hardwired personality traits — shyness, introversion or extraversion — and not as behaviors that are built out of skills that can be learned.
- Assessing Participation in Discussion: Armstrong and Boud 1983.
- Students’ Participation in the Mixed-Age College Classroom: Howard, Short and Clark 1996. (This one from the same lead author looks similar, and is OPEN).
- Professors’ and Students’ Perceptions of Why Students Participate in Class: Fassinger 1996
- Bias in Grading: Malouff 2008.
- Race, Gender, and Subjective Evaluation in the Discipline of African American Girls: Morris and Perry 2017.
- The Impact of Student Race on Contributions to Class Discussions: Pitt and Packard, 2012.
- Student Participation in the College Classroom: Rocca 2010. OPEN.
- Resistance to Classroom Participation: White 2011.
New Framework, Different from the Old Framework
“Instead, I propose that instructors conceptualize participation grades in undergraduate classrooms as opportunities to incentivize and reward skill building” (13).
- Conceptualizes participation as a set of learnable, interconnected skills
- Recognizes and rewards skills that students already believe reflect their engagement in class (peer editing, prepping with classmates in study groups, active listening, coming to office ours) but which are usually not captured by “class participation” grades.
- Encourages students to work in different skills simultaneously, and to start to understand these skills as interconnected.
This is how the author applied the framework in class.
- 2 sociology classes. 1 400-level and 1 100-level.
- 45 students per class.
- Class participation is broken into 5 dimensions:Attendance and tardiness
- Preparation for each class meeting
- Participation in small group discussions
- Participation in full class discussions
- Participation in other ways (office hours, writing center visits, study groups, and more)
- Evaluation is conducted using a “self-reporting goal-centered approach.”
Start of the term:
- Students use a 5 point Likert scale to self-rate along each of the 5 dimensions: How well do you usually do in classes like this with this behavior. They also write 1 sentence justifying their numerical rating.
- Students identify 3 concrete, measurable goals for themselves during the term and write out a plan to achieve these goals.
- Teacher reads and gives feedback on the goals and plan.
During the term:
- Periodic, informal check-ins.
- At least one formal self-reflection. Students re-rate themselves along each dimension and submit a reflection justifying their rating, reporting on progress twoards goals, and adjusting goals/plan as needed.
- Instructor gives feedback on goals and plan, and if there is a disconnect between the students’ self-rating and the instructor’s perception, meets to calibrate this.
End of the term:
- Student submits a self-report that is similar to the mid-term report, but in which they assign themselves a participation grade and justify it.
- Instructor reviews the reflective material from throughout the term, and the students’ progress towards goals, assigns a grade, and explains it with written feedback.
The instructor reports that there was rarely a disconnect between the students self-reported grade and the instructor’s perception.
(Note, I would expect from my experience that there would be a group of students who would grade themselves too harshly, describing similar activities and evidence to other students but assigning themselves a lower grade than I would, or than those other students would. I wonder if that happened. It would be pretty easy to re-calibrate at midterm).
Goals/benefits of this approach:
- Reward a fuller range of behaviors.
- Reward something more than quantity.
- Did math with their numerical evaluations and counted how many achieved goals
- Also inductively distilled themes from the written reflections.
Skill building: Students came to see speaking in class as a skill. Related to this — they were able to articulate progress even when they were still feeling nervous about participation, or still identified as “shy” or “introverted.”
Starting is the hard part, and then it gets easier.
(Note: most students focused on participating more, but some students worked on skills around participating less, or participating intentionally. These themes cut across both of these goals.)
Connections: The five dimensions of participation are interconnected.
Transfer: Some students reported that they practiced their participation skills in other classes too.
I am going to skip most of the discussion because this is super long, and I feel like many of the insights are grounded really well in the rest of the paper. But I will tell you what the author identified as limitations:
- Having to rely of self-reporting. This is the big one. They tried some forms of triangulation, but most came up short for obvious reasons, like, “I am trying to evaluate things that happen both inside and outside the classroom.” So far, in the rare cases when there was a significant teacher/student mismatch, course correcting at the midterm check in addressed the problem.
- The experience so far demonstrates the need to do more, intentionally and formally, to train students how to participate in class.
“Sociologists must take issues of inequality as seriously in our grading as we do in our instructional content, and moving toward a skill development participation assessment system is a good step in that direction.” (20)
I started this post as a follow up on the reading goals I talked about here. But then I ended up, as I often do, writing about something else. Which is not surprising — as I’ve been reading and thinking through these books, they’ve become an important part of how I have been thinking and experiencing lots of things around me. And my normal process in this space is to invite all of you along on that journey, no matter how long it takes me to get to the actual point.
But I’ve been working this year on naming the things I want to talk about, instead of talking around them, particularly when my initial tendency is to very carefully lay all the mental groundwork I’ve done because I feel uncertain, which is likely to happen when I am speaking about issues of oppression or marginalization, and where my own experience and identity comes from a place of privilege and power.
Like many people, I felt a lot of emotions reading April Hathcock’s blog post describing her experience at ALA Council Forum, many people’s reports of the Council meeting that followed the next day, her immediate experience with ALA leadership in the aftermath, and her clear call to action. I was upset – these events are viscerally upsetting. I was also embarrassed, disheartened, and angry, wondering how many times she has to tell these things that we need to hear about the experiences people of color have in our profession. It’s not fair, and it’s not okay. But here’s the thing, I can’t say I was shocked. I wasn’t even surprised. And to be really clear I am not saying that it was inevitable that these events would happen in this exact time and this exact space, but that the possibility — and the dynamics of oppression — are always there. And then there’s how we (a collective we, with a focus on those of us who are white, those who have some forms of power and privilege and safety in this profession) responded. That wasn’t surprising either.
I have seen these dynamics play out too many times in the last several years, in too many situations and in too many (white and mostly-white) spaces. and the responses and reactions I heard and saw —
let’s wait and make sure we know what happened, let’s figure out the details, do we know the backstory? was there backstory? let’s talk about the personalities involved, do those personalities have a backstory? let’s focus all of our energy on the specifics of this one situation, I can’t talk about this situation until we all calm down, let’s talk about how unprofessional or uncivil these discussions are, let’s talk about how unprofessional or uncivil this person is, let’s wait and listen, it’s my job to listen and learn
— were so, so familiar. They keep happening.
On some level, I understand every one of these responses. In some situations, I have felt the feelings that drive them. But now all I really hear when I hear them is an effort, a multi-pronged effort, to talk about racism, white supremacy and injustice without ever talking about real change in the behaviors, expectations, hierarchies, ideologies, systems and structures that perpetuate those oppressions. And this effort doesn’t have to be intentional (sometimes it is); sometimes it is driven by feelings and emotions like fear and guilt and a need to feel safe.
But this is why I have a lot of feelings when people bring up codes of conduct or agreements as solution to racialized aggressions or microaggressions in conference, meeting, workshop, classroom and other spaces. Those of us with some level of power or safety who truly want to dismantle oppressive structures need to be willing to work towards change, change that might threaten both of those things. That is work that will stir up negative, uncomfortable and even scary emotions, and protecting us from those emotions is not what codes of conduct are for. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t used that way; that dynamic is also familiar. Without having the hard conversations, and making a commitment to work through the feelings that come with that hard kind of change, then codes of conduct or dialogue agreements will inevitably be used by people with power to keep themselves centered and keep the status quo firmly in place.
So that’s the thing I want to say. Here’s some more about how I got there.
So, let’s check in on those reading goals. It would probably come as a surprise to no one that my record was mixed.
I made no progress on Common Cause. I’m still committed to finishing that one, but it’s in some ways the most optional so I fall into the trap of prioritizing other things. I made an early push and got beyond the halfway point in Intersectionality, and (probably just as important for me to actually learn and learn to act and actually act from what I learned, got a first draft of some writing sparked by that book out and into the world).
But most of my progress came in the Art of Effective Facilitation, which is probably because 1) I actually had to co-facilitate a dialogue this month and 2) I was (and it’s over but still am) pretty nervous about it. I’m am so grateful that this training — OSU’s Dialogue Facilitation Lab — exists for many reasons, but one of them is that it provides a space to practice things that are both inherently challenging and also pushing me to re-think things I have done before. That opportunity to practice in a supportive and learning environment is incredibly meaningful, especially to someone like me.
But, still, that means if there is a book I can read to feel more prepared, I am most definitely going to read it.
The dialogue my co-facilitator and I decided to practice with dug into the tension between freedom of expression and inquiry — and safety and inclusivity. This is a topic that a lot of people in libraries are struggling with, and that a lot of us in higher ed (where those narratives about free expression and free inquiry and debate and the marketplace of ideas have a really, really, entrenched hold) are struggling with as well. We thought it would be a good topic for a dialogue with the group of colleagues we have been working with in this lab, and we were right.
But I don’t really want to talk about that dialogue in its specifics here. Doing that would cut against the purpose of the lab, a purpose that I am super grateful for myself, and it also isn’t what I really want to say right now.
“But to what extent can we promise the kind of safety our students might expect from us? (135)”
One of the things that I read and re-read preparing for this dialogue was chapter 8 in The Art of Effective Facilitation, “From Safe Spaces to Brave Spaces: A New Way to Frame Dialogue Around Diversity and Social Justice” by Brian Arao and Kristi Clemens. The authors in this chapter argue that the common practice of establishing ground rules for social justice conversations frequently emphasizes the idea of “safe spaces” to reassure people who are uncertain or afraid to speak about sensitive topics. They analyze a case study to show that this framing can get in the way of the kind of authentic dialogue they want to foster. Specifically, they point out that there are several ways that students who identify with the agent group in conversations about oppression — students who embody some kind of privilege and power — can use these ground rules to shut down conversations that are pushing them to hear things they don’t want to hear.
This is important. We hear derisive take-downs of the idea of “safe spaces” all the time in higher ed (and in the world, but right now I am talking about higher ed). These hot takes generally follow a similar formula, punching down by framing students from historically marginalized communities (and including those who care about those students and about oppression) as too fragile to deal with the rough-and-tumble world of difficult ideas or complicated situations. This essay challenges the frame of safety, but not in this way. It focuses instead on the ways that they will twist structures like ground rules, put in place to protect those who have been marginalized, to protect the status quo instead.
“Further, it is our view that the agent group impulse to classify challenges to one’s power and privilege as actions that detract from a sense of safety is, in itself, a manifestation of dominance. (140)”
Because here’s the thing — this always happens. We create structures, whether they are agreements or codes or rubrics (or standardized tests, or holistic admissions processes, or objective hiring workflows), to make sure that everyone is treated the same, and that everyone has the same access to opportunity, and that everyone is operating under the same set of rules. And if we rely on agreements, or rubrics, or codes, by themselves we will fail. These things assume that the rules that we are all operating under are just fine, that the people working within those structures are acting with intent and awareness and a shared understanding of those rules and expectations, and that if we just hold everyone to the standards that our rules assume — everything will be fine.
But if those structures aren’t fine, if the standards themselves are racist, or sexist, or classist, or ableist — or if we don’t talk about and reveal how different interpretations of them are racist, or sexist, or ableist or classist … then it doesn’t matter that we have those agreements, rubrics and codes. They’ll be interpreted by those with power in ways that keep power in power. Ground rules will be used by white students to keep from hearing things about whiteness that make them feel uncomfortable, because they will interpret “safe” as “free from discomfort.” Codes of conduct will be used to silence those naming racialized aggression because of their “tone”, lack of “civility” or “collegiality.”
It’s important to understand this — Arao and Clemens did not write a chapter arguing that discussion agreements or ground rules are a bad thing. They wrote a chapter arguing that if we adopt those things uncritically — without unpacking their assumptions, without making sure that we share an understanding of what we are agreeing to and why it matters, and without accepting that if these agreements are going to do anything about inequality or oppression we will have to change our behavior, our expectations, our practice and our relationships — then we will continue to reinforce frames that inhibit the real work we want and need to do.
Here’s a little peek into the mess of insecurity that is my shy-introvert-who-sometimes-talks-a-lot brain. This is what happens to my feelings after I talk in public — in a meeting, in a formal talk, facilitating a dialogue or a workshop, giving an interview, even asking a complicated question — pretty much every single time.
- First, there’s euphoria. This is a release of tension, fueled by relief that (at least most of) the bad things I imagined could happen, didn’t.
- That’s followed by optimism. I’m focused on next time, building on what worked. In this stage I am starting to think about what went less well, and I’m still in a forward-thinking place.
- Then, regret creeps in. My mind touches on, or returns to, something I wish I’d done a little differently. This is sometimes a super concrete thing based on tangible feedback I got in the moment. It’s sometimes a realization that something I said could be taken in a way that was different than I meant it. It is sometimes a vague feeling that maybe I talked too much, or too little, or interrupted someone, or let a tangent go on too long.
- That inevitably sends me into a trough of despair. I start second-guessing everything about it. Things that initially went well are particular targets. I doubt any positive feedback I received.
- Then, I get a grip and start developing some perspective. It usually helps a lot to remind myself that I am not the center of anyone’s experience, even in a workshop I designed, and that I should stop making it all about me. I also start thinking critically about the choices I made that I am worried about. Some, I realize, made sense. Some, I realize, need work.
- And that brings me back to an optimistic place where I can start planning for the next step.
I co-facilitated a dialogue last week and I learned SO MUCH doing it. And one of the things I learned was this – that this is what I experience and do. As I was headed into that pit of despair, I had a thought out of nowhere, “it’s okay, give it a few days and you’ll have worked through this. This stage doesn’t last.” That really helped. So I thought I would put this out in the world, in case my tangled mass of insecurities might be helpful to you all out there too.
Every year, Shaun and I have a vague goal to see 52 movies, in the theater, before year’s end. Every year, we start that process on New Year’s Day. We honestly never get there, but this year we realized as we hit December, that we had a chance. I think we were at about 45 movies on December 1.
We decided then that we wouldn’t see any movies JUST to get to 52. Like, they had to be a movie that we would at the very least go see if we were super in the mood for a movie and it was the only thing playing. Because let’s face it, there are a lot of movies that don’t clear that bar.
In the end, we were stymied by Corvallis. We are super lucky to have a three-screen indie theater in our tiny town. Between that and the big corporate chains, a lot of movies come here. But a lot of them don’t come here right away. There are a number of movies from this release year that we haven’t had a chance to see yet, and we ended up at 49. We could have made it an even 50 had we seen our NYD movie on NYE*, but we decided instead to begin as we mean to go on.
Why movies? There are a lot of reasons, big and small, but one of the most interesting to me is — because we work in academia. This is a job that never really goes away. There are always things to read, talk about, grade, work out, letters to write, applications to complete and there’s no real workday to keep those things contained. This is especially true for Shaun, but it’s pretty true for me too. Add to that the fact that I am entirely incapable of sitting and watching anything at home without at least something to keep my hands busy, and movies in the theater become an opportunity to focus, together, on one thing, for two hours. Even when the movie isn’t great that alone is worth the price of admission.
(We don’t get snacks. That would probably bankrupt us.)
So, here’s the 2018 list:
Call Me By Your Name
A Fantastic Woman
The Young Karl Marx
The Death of Stalin
Leaning into the Wind
Avengers: Infinity War
Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Story
Won’t You Be My Neighbor?
Ant Man and the Wasp
Hearts Beat Loud
Leave No Trace
Sorry to Bother You
Mission Impossible: Fallout
Crazy Rich Asians
A Simple Favor
A Star is Born
The Old Man and the Gun
Can You Ever Forgive Me?
Maria, by Callas
Spider-Man: Into the Spider Verse
Mary, Queen of Scots
We haven’t done our annual sit in the pub and create top five lists project yet, though we have started the initial thinking. Films in bold are my current top contenders, but I reserve the right to shift things after further reflection. And top five in our world doesn’t mean “best” – it’s a pretty idiosyncratic and individual set of criteria. In any event, one of these titles is still pretty squishy.
Overall, this was a really good year for movies. There are usually more than enough contenders for a bottom five list and while that would be possible this year — it’s a relative thing after all — there is a good chance that some movies that are just fine would be on it.
I don’t do an honorable mention list but I do want to point out a couple more films:
- Most Intense YouTube Marathon happened after seeing Maria, by Callas.
- Leaning into the Wind is the leading contender for Imagery that Invaded my Dreams and Stuck With Me After I Woke Up.
- And Instant Family wins for Movie Starring Mark Wahlberg that Most Directly Represents My Life.
I’m not a resolutions person. I never really have been. In fact, I have a contrarian streak that actually makes me less likely to start a new, good habit on January 1. Like, I would want nothing more than to join a book group or take up a new sport and the possibility that it would look like a New Year’s resolution would probably be enough to put me off. I think that’s a character flaw.
Still, as someone who spends a lot of time in her head, the inherently reflective nature of the calendar turning over affects me no matter what I choose to do with that information. And one of the things I was reflecting on this year was a conversation that Meredith tapped into about blogging, reading and social media platforms.
I told Meredith at the time that one of the biggest barriers I have to writing in this space — this space right here — is the lack of reading. And what her post made realize was that I wasn’t talking so much about reading time and space, but the lack of a network of other digital writing to read. Back when this was the only real platform for sharing that now happens in a much more fragmented way, it was a rare week where I found nothing to think about in my networks.
(Or maybe it’s just because Google murdered Reader. I blame that for a lot of things).
But back then, when the writing was longer form, and my scanning happened once or twice a day on Google Reader (or del.icio.us) I made more choices about which rabbit holes I was going to go down. And I had more information to make those choices. My To Read pile was still out of control, and I was never caught up. Let’s not pretend it was different than it was. Still.
If there’s one thing Twitter is good for it’s pushing All the Things written by and recommended by All the Brilliant People right by my eyes and I have been feeling a kind of desperate desire to read all of those things for the last two years at least — a desperation that is really keeping me from sticking with anything long enough to do the reading I need to do.
So I think I need to slow down. To make some choices. To take a breath or two. When I say blogging like it’s 2005, that’s kind of what I mean. Be intentional about here, don’t write here, but mostly write here without trying to keep up with the conversations an the thoughts and the torrent of ideas that is going on elsewhere. I think sharing some of those choices here will let me feel more connected to them – and less like I should push them aside for the next thing and the next thing and the next. Here’s what I am going to try and focus on for the next few weeks:
These are directly related to stuff I am doing and working on.
- The Art of Effective Facilitation – edited by Lisa Landreman. Ideally, I will start and finish this one this week, because it’s going to provide some grounding for a training I’m heading in to. Realistically …. we’ll see.
- Intersectionality by Patricia Hill Collins and Sirma Bilge. I have been stalled out 2/3 of the way through this for a while, and since the pieces I have already read are already making their way into stuff I am writing, I think I need to buckle down. Ideally, I will have this one done by the end of the month.
- Transformative Civic Engagement through Community Organizing by Maria Avila. This was recommended at a workshop/retreat I went to in November, by another one of the participants and I got my hands on it right away and loved it immediately. But I am still only ten pages in. Honestly, it’s really fast and really short – I could probably finish this in an afternoon. But I’m going to give myself an end of the month deadline for this as well.
And in the less directly connected but still important category — I made a public commitment to read this on twitter, and didn’t finish. So let’s see if I can get through the rest: The Common Cause: Creating Race and Nation in the American Revolution.
I’ve also been thinking a lot about how much better I do with regular writing time. I’ve never been a “write for an hour every morning at five” type of person, and I have never successfully kept up a journal. Honestly, I’m pretty lousy in general at writing on a schedule. But I do better when I write regularly. My daughter has a sticker on her laptop that says “Write until the world makes sense” and for real, that’s what I’m missing when I don’t write — the chance to make sense of things.
I’ve tried a bunch of different ways to build that in to my regular work, and honestly, I’m not too happy with any of them. I don’t have a well-defined set of reasons why. But some of this has to do with public/private thinking.
Some of that sense making I need to do will honestly never be for public consumption, because that’s not the kind of work I need to do. Some of the sense making I need to do will only make more sense if I talk about it with others. I’m realizing that no matter what the platform, I don’t really want to the stuff in the first category in the cloud — in fact, most of that work isn’t even stuff I do well digitally.
But the stuff in the second category – I get some learning and thinking and sense making value when I write for an audience that I don’t get when I write for myself, or when I tweet, or when I bring up the same idea in four different meetings because it’s on my brain and needs to get out.
So that’s what I’m thinking. And that is what I am thinking of trying. I’m not resolving to do it, though, so let’s not call it a resolution.