If you consider yourself a student-oriented teacher, but your goals for the students do not match their own goals for themselves, are you still student-oriented?
I've been thinking this over off and on since the end of class yesterday, and so when I sat down to write out my blog response to Collision Course, it was inevitable that I would comment on it. (Which isn't to say that I expect any sort of definitive answer in the next 400 or so words, as I happen to agree that this question has the markings of "thesis" written all over it.)
At some obvious initial point, I think student-orientation can exclude itself from student expectations. The students whose goals include avoidance of work and minimizing effort will clearly have their hopes dashed, and rightly so. This relates to the basic assumption of mature self-consideration in the development of relevant and achievable student intentions. It would be impossible to be a student-oriented teacher if you kowtowed to student demands against rigor, since on some level, it seems to me, this seems counter-intuitive to the very notion of "teacher."
Nevertheless, I think we can all see that I'm stalling some, and that's because I'm starting to realize how much larger the bite I've bitten off is than the normal stuff I chew (ugh, that was the most awkward way to reword that particular cliche I could imagine). Take, for example, Durst's student "Jay" (pg. 60), who mentions that he "would like to improve [his] poetry writing skills, because it is a necessary part of any English class." This seems to fit the criteria for a reasonable expectation for a composition course; Jay has adequately reasoned out a deficiency in his own ability, and identified that improving himself in that field will have some concrete benefits for him in his ensuing English education. We'll even, for the sake of argument, suppose that Jay's hope for the class is not just his own, but it shared by close to half the other students. Now then, where do our responsibilities, as conscientious teachers who have nevertheless already written a semester-long syllabus, lie?
On the one hand, I can see merit in this idea of out and out altering the syllabus; recognizing a sizeable, though not majority, opinion the students, it would make sense to reevaluate the course load in order to fit in even a small poetry writing theme. And yet, the syllabus, if we've been diligent up to this point, already represents the material that we consider beneficial to our students' success. This is not to say that we will ever be infallible, but is it in the students' best interest to teach them one vocally desired skill at the expense of another, though possibly unconsidered by them? It seems to me that the syllabus, when given to the students, should be accompanied with some sort of understanding that "None of this is here just to fill a void in your time" (whether or not that's an accurate statement is a discussion for another day). So then how reasonable is it to remove that material? You satisfy the stated needs of the students, but run the risk of under-preparing them for requirements they may not have foreseen.
Hmm. This is clearly more of a response to class-discussion than it is to the readings that shaped it. I hope that's okay. I just wanted to say "hats off" to Phil on really posing a head-scratcher there.
No comments:
Post a Comment