I often find myself returning to the mantra that, “we teach students, not content.” That simple maxim holds power in its deceptive simplicity. The pressure to teach toward outcomes or tests, to prepare students for certifications or graduate school or career success directs our attention toward the future and away from the here-and-now of the people in the room (or virtual space) with us. Prioritizing the human element in our classes helps establish lasting connections and memorable learning.
Reading the Room
Decades ago, while living in Orlando and teaching ninth-grade English, I started class on a Monday morning ready to get things done. I had an agenda, goals, activities…a plan. And students were going to learn. But only a couple minutes after I started chatting, I could tell something was off. The mood in the room was somber and distant. Students weren’t connecting; their attention was elsewhere. I paused for a second and asked innocently, “What’s wrong? Did I miss something?”
Did I ever.
The preceding weekend—Friday evening after the football game, if I recall correctly—an upperclassman had died in a car crash. And here I was, this oblivious, content-focused teacher, expecting to follow the plan without recognizing the significance of what was on the minds of everyone else in the room but me.
Human Adjustments
Those plans I had got canceled. The activities could wait. My agenda no longer mattered. I set all those things aside and started asking different kinds of questions. Now, instead of asking about readings or content or material, I asked about feelings and connections and meaning. As I recall, only one member of the class knew the student in question, and that person was understandably absent. The rest of us acknowledged the absence, and there was a collective sense of forgiveness in the room. We all knew our class unanimously understood why that one person chose to be absent, and we all agreed it was the right choice.
I have no idea what my original agenda said students were supposed to learn that day. But I know for certain they came out of our class learning about compassion, empathy, and shared values. When we got back to talking about English and literature and writing (which for that one day felt like trivial distractions), what they learned about compassion would apply. Sure, they might perhaps feel more compassion for characters in the stories we read, but more importantly, they learned to be more compassionate with the people they interact with.
Turning the Tables
Fast-forward to 2016. I had moved to Tampa to teach college-level freshman writing classes while my boyfriend stayed in Orlando. That year was my fifth time attending DHSI and my first as an instructor. I flew to Vancouver on June 11 to overnight with a friend before heading to UVic on the 12th. That morning, I woke to news of the massacre at Pulse, a gay bar I had been to before. By the time class started on Monday the 13th, officials hadn’t yet released the full casualty list. I had to start class and introduce myself while the back of my mind wondered whether anyone I knew had been at the club Saturday night.
I learned yet again that morning the importance of compassion, as folks in that class graciously made space for my worries and heartache. Throughout the week, they helped me stay focused on our work together when they saw I needed a distraction, and they checked in on me periodically to show they understood I carried an undue emotional burden.
In yesterday’s letter of hopes and intentions, I referenced a conversation on Twitter from two folks from DHSI who weren’t in that 2016 class with me but who shared in my grief. In his tweet, Kush Patel highlights the connection we formed in over the years and how necessary those connections have been. The content of our courses were important, but it’s the connections we remember most vividly.
Human Introductions
Acknowledging the importance of connection, I wish to introduce today’s concepts and the questions to guide our discoveries on Monday. Sure, we’re introducing ourselves and finding where things are within this online course, but more critically, we’re establishing connections with one another. As you go through your day today, pay attention to what things help you form connections. How do you, especially in digital spaces, build empathy or read a room? These tasks are neither simple nor easy. Yet they are essential if we are to bring our full selves to the work of teaching.
As we build connections among participants, we’ll also be working to introduce ourselves to the foundational concepts of the week. These three questions should help guide and shape your thinking today:
- What is Critical Digital Pedagogy (CDP), and what are its goals?
- Why implement critical pedagogy, especially digitally?
- What is a course?
That last takes on greater significance and complexity when we’re all in different spaces, engaging in semi-simultaneous work and occasional collaboration. Course auditors can follow along via the public activity checklists (Pre-Flight | Monday); registered participants can find full checklists in today’s email blast and in Slack.
I’m curious where our discussions will take us.
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