Lessons from Behind Bars

During the economic chill of the early 1970s, searching for an extra paycheck in the second year of my teaching career, I taught an extension course at an adult, maximum-security penitentiary in Illinois. Behind those prison walls, within a small, claustrophobic classroom wedged into the upper floor of Cellblock #4, I acquired some needed, unforgettable lessons about teaching and learning. At the end of fifteen weeks teaching a three-hour, once-a-week, general education history course, I could not guarantee, of course, that any of my students would be, in the language of prison authorities, a “non-recidivist.” However, I could say with great conviction that I would not easily lapse into old teaching patterns—particularly with regard to general education and the humanities.

On the first day of class—seconds after I had unpacked my briefcase and assumed a professorial stance behind the lectern—a member of the class asked me, “What’s all this (explicative deleted) about ‘the educated person’ and ‘the humanities’ in your school’s catalog? When I get out of here, I need a job, professor-man.”

The rest of the class peppered me with similar questions and comments. They caught me unaware.  Students back on campus never asked such questions; professors had more important things to discuss (. . . apparently). In desperation, I resorted to a time-tested teacher’s dodge. “You’ve raised a very interesting question,” I said. “Let’s keep it in mind as we move through this course.”

Nice try; but no soap.

The students pressed me to acknowledge their questions. Fortunately, as I sputtered (and considered an early exit), one student came to my rescue. “Let’s bring in written questions we can discuss at the next class meeting,” he suggested. Since the student towered over everyone in the room and had sculpted a substantial physique in the prison weight room, no one raised further objections. I certainly found no cause for protest.

We had our discussion the following week, and it provided a stimulating subtext for the remaining weeks of class. Often we interrupted our scheduled topics to consider connections to our initial thoughts about the educated person and study in the humanities. By the time the course ended, we may not have covered as much territory as expected within the original curricular landscape, but we seemed to have traveled far towards a larger perspective. The students and I had a better understanding of the educated person, how study of the humanities fit with that ideal, and why study in traditional disciplines such as history, philosophy, literature made sense in the context of individual lives, public policy, and careers. Many in the class felt they could now continue their undergraduate education with a better understanding of the requirements and with considerably more enthusiasm for doing so. Beyond learning valuable lessons about good teaching, my students had given me an educational goal I have pursued since: to engage students in substantive and practical conversations about the educated person and the humanities before they entered too deeply into the curriculum.

Based on my own college experience and impressionistic evidence as a faculty member, I knew that higher education rarely allowed students in on the philosophical foundations of general education requirements (What is an educated person?) and why those requirements included study in the humanities.  Thanks to my experience teaching at the prison, I thought that if students had an opportunity to discuss and learn about the educated person question and the humanities in advance of taking their required courses, they would enhance their undergraduate educations. Students likely would  (1) approach study in the humanities more intelligently and enthusiastically, and (2) make better decisions within the overall undergraduate curriculum -- especially with regard to valuing the potential rewards (understandings, skills, and values) gained from a liberal education.

The assumption that so many undergraduates made about the irrelevance of the humanities, encapsulated in the muttered statement of one advisee (“I won’t be spouting off about Shakespeare and history stuff at a management meeting, will I?”) provided me with a worthy goal. At my highest level of idealism, I could imagine students making connections between the humanities and their professions. I also thought they might perform better, learn more, and ready themselves for a lifetime of learning if they had some background and understandings about the humanities before stepping into the classroom. At my next academic career stop, I had no choice but to try out my assumptions. 

To be continued . . . 

The Good Student?

It stands to reason that good teachers need good students. But what’s a good student? Not so easy to define. Ask some professors about what makes students difficult and unruly to teach . . . well, that’s a different story. You’ll get an earful. These days, professors are very concerned about students’ personal behaviors that are uncivil, disruptive, and inappropriate for learning in a college classroom, and rightly so. What sorts of things are at the top of the professors’ complaint list? Here are some favorites: late arrivals to class; not keeping up with assignments; using a smart phone in class to text, check Facebook, and such things; arguing about grades (as opposed to asking for clarification or discussing a grade); goofing around in class; snoozing; poor reading and writing skills; dominating discussions or not participating in class discussions . . . and on and on! Some of these complaints about uncivil behavior and “bad” students are as old as the hills; others are new issues of troubling dimension to professors. The simple fact is: Professors and students are both the victims of uncivil behavior.

But hold on!

I know your goal isn’t to be a bad student and that negative definitions aren’t all that helpful. (Besides, you already know what the “student from hell” is like from your experiences in grade school and high school classrooms.) For the purposes of this discussion, I am assuming you know the value of being civil, enthusiastic, attentive, studious, prepared, cooperative, collaborative, and self-motivated. I also assume you desire to build on these traits, and you want to develop other admirable qualities that have a spot on the “Good Student Checklist.” Let’s move ahead and examine some “thinking qualities” that will mark you as a good student and contribute to good teaching. (A good teacher will want to promote “ways of thinking” for you to practice and make part of your intellectual development.)

1. Searching the shadows—One of the toughest things students must develop as learners is the ability to go beyond the obvious. It makes no sense for you to accept something at face value without searching the shadows, peeking around corners, examining the underside, and probing the surrounding areas. An easy way to make my point here is to imagine examining Michelangelo’s famous sculpture of David. Trust me, you can’t possibly understand and appreciate this sculpture unless you “search the shadows.” Great artists are attempting to tell us something, to excite a reaction, to bring us beyond merely standing and staring. A casual viewing of the sculpture, without moving around to view it from different angles, hardly helps us understand Michelangelo’s intent or genus as an artist. For example, what is David thinking as the battle with Goliath is about to commence? Moving to view the sculpture from different angles raises some interesting questions about how Michelangelo portrays David’s emotions at the moment of battle.

2. Rethinking the myths—As a beginning college student, I brought with me an array of knowledge, values, and beliefs acquired from my parents, friends, and teachers, community institutions, political leaders, and popular culture (radio, TV, movies, sports, and so on). Much of this knowledge and accompanying values and beliefs were solidly held, and I rarely had a second thought about them. Once in college, several of my professors challenged what I thought to be true and beyond dispute. That was good teaching—exactly what professors should be doing as part of their overall role. My definition of an educated person and a good student embraces and honors the critical examination of one’s biases, assumptions, values, and beliefs. Such thinking is a fundamental action for a good student and a necessary skill to develop in college. I like what one law professor has to say about how she attempts to help students in this matter:

I teach because I enjoy challenging students. First, I challenge their assumptions about the law. Second, I ask that they question their assumptions about themselves and their beliefs and values. Finally, I challenge their assumptions and attitudes about society generally. I neither expect nor desire to change their assumptions, beliefs and values; it is the process of evaluation and reevaluation that I seek.[1]

I would strongly advise welcoming challenges that lead you to rethink personal and societal myths, biases, assumptions, beliefs, and values during your college education and beyond those years of study. Doing so, shall we say, is “critical” to success in many ways. Don’t mistake being exposed to new ideas and academic opinions about issues as “indoctrination” or some sort of “liberal conspiracy.” Despite all the bombast about that sort of thing happening on the college campus, the number of offenses is miniscule and hardly comparable to all the overt and covert ways that indoctrination and propaganda flourish in our daily lives, thanks to many politicians, the popular media, and advertising. You’ll learn quickly enough as a college student to identify professors who abuse their authority in the classroom and act unprofessionally. I doubt that your basic thinking ability and strength as a person will allow you to be “brainwashed.” Be a critical thinker and learner.

3. Making connections—Too often, professors teach as though their individual courses are unique in importance, unconnected to what other professors teach or to what goes on in other parts of the curriculum. You need to be on guard against this sort of teaching and search for the connections between what you are learning in several courses of study. Making connections between what you’re learning in a philosophy course and a sociology course or in a mathematics course and a biology course is a sure sign of an educated person. Connecting the dots and pulling together what you are learning in different academic disciplines and courses is not easy, especially for first-year students, but it’s something to keep in mind, something to practice. When you do make a connection, it’s an exciting intellectual moment you’ll long remember and put to use. Maybe a couple of examples will help you appreciate this important way of thinking. Let’s say you are studying Theories and Techniques of Advertising in the business administration curriculum. Your semester’s course load includes Introductory Sociology, Basic Psychology, Political Science: Presidential Politics, and Introduction to Statistics. A heavy load! (And I’ve stacked the deck here to make a point.) In the advertising class, as you learn about “factors that influence consumer behavior in the United States,” the connection between that topic and what you are learning in sociology (for example, how strongly Americans value self-reliance and individualism), psychology (the psychology of human memory and perception), political science (effects of TV advertising on presidential elections), and statistics (data sampling, probability, and hypothesis testing) might be easily discovered and applied—if you are on the lookout and practicing connection-making.

4. Dealing with uncertainty—One of the most difficult and frustrating things about learning at the college level is uncertainty. When there is no satisfactory, single answer to a question or a problem—when something can be understood in more than one way, leaving an open-ended search for meaning—it can be an uncomfortable, exasperating, and downright discouraging situation. It challenges what we have strongly held to be a “truth.” Most of us would prefer to have the “right answer.” When a literature teacher says that “there are many ways to look at the meaning of this poem,” when the scientist suggests that “what appears to be an accepted scientific explanation for this event can be disputed in several ways,” or when the economic theorist admits that “we really don’t have a complete answer as to what caused this sort of a market downturn,” we become uncomfortable. Uncertainty and ambiguity served up in the pursuit of knowledge makes it difficult to work up an appetite for such a squishy, unpredictable course of education. How disconcerting if a teacher says, “I don’t know what could be the best answer. It’s an ambiguity scholars have yet to resolve.” (You’d like to say, “Come on, Dude, you’re the teacher. Is this going to be on the test?”)

Let me suggest that dealing with uncertainty is a high art of learning and fertile ground in which to grow as an educated person. Uncertainty is not necessarily something to avoid in learning. And the fact is that in the “real world” we confront uncertainty each and every day. One professor, who routinely leads students toward uncertainty as a teaching strategy, had this to say, “As a result of the ambiguity, students reported curiosity, independent investigation, anticipation, appreciation for novelty, and enjoyment in discovery.”[2] These students had left the realm of rote memorization and the acquisition of facts for higher, more sophisticated levels of thinking. They took an active role in their learning and discovered that many points of views, competing explanations, and unpredictable situations enhanced their learning. Not a bad trade-off for walking toward the gray unknown lurking in many college courses. Uncertainty? As some authority in your life might have told you: “Learn to deal with it.”

5. Reflecting—It stands to reason that as you listen, discuss, read, write, and take action to learn in college, taking time out to reflect or think about what it all means is good common sense. While you’re at it, why not analyze the depth, extent, importance, and future directions of that learning. Reflection doesn’t need to be all that theoretical or complicated. For example, as you finish up a class or any other form of study, ask yourself a few questions: “What was the most important thing I have just learned?” “What important question remains unanswered?” “What was the muddiest point (i.e., what do I least understand from the lecture, reading, etc.)?”[3] A good teacher will set time aside in class for you to deal with these questions, but if not, do so on your own.

Try this easy model for reflection:

What Do I Need to Do Now?

Ý

How Can I Use This Learning?

Ý

Does This Learning Connect to What I Have Already Studied? How So?

Ý

Why Was This Learning Important?

Ý

Did I Understand? How Well? (Quite Well? Not at All?)

Ý

START HERE: What Did I Just Learn?

* * * * *

Before concluding this chapter’s discussion of being a good student and how the teaching/learning process influences that, I’m going to bring up some additional considerations. Professor Gerald Graff, who we met earlier in this chapter, suggests some important academic guidelines for successful college study you’ll need to consider:

·       Be yourself, but do it the way we academics do.

·       There are no right answers, only endless questions; but some answers are better than others and some don’t even qualify to get on the map.

·       Important issues are endlessly open and debatable; but you need expertise in order to enter the debate.

·       Academia wants to hear your ideas and arguments, not a mere rehearsal of what others have said; but your ideas and arguments won’t be taken seriously unless you take others’ views into account.

·       Challenge authority, don’t just write down what teachers say; but you can’t challenge authority unless you know the rules of the game.[4]

Confusing? Yes, at first glance. As Professor Graff makes clear, these guidelines for academic success have a “paradoxical, double quality . . .”[5] But these guidelines (and others we’ve discussed) are how the game is played. Being a good student takes effort, and while a good teacher will make sure to help you understand, discuss, appreciate, and apply Professor Graff's guidelines, you're the one who has to put them into practice.

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[1] Professor Sean M. Scott of the University of Loyola Law School (Los Angeles), http://www.lls.edu/academics/faculty/scott.html/.

[2] International Journal for the Scholarship of Teaching and Learning 1, no. 2 (July 2007): 3. http://www.georgiasouthern.edu/ijotl/.

[3] These are called “Classroom Assessment Techniques” (CATs). Professors can use these CATs and other techniques to measure how well they are teaching, as well as where their students stand in understanding concepts, issues, and so on. Thomas A. Angelo and Patricia Cross, Classroom Assessment Techniques: A Handbook for College Teachers, 2nd edition (Jossey-Bass, 1993).

[4] Graff, Clueless in Academe, 29.

[5] Ibid.

Teaching the Educated Person

A Lesson from the Past . . . During the turbulent, anxious, strife-ridden Vietnam War years of the late 1960s and early 1970s, student protest and campus unrest reached into even the most obscure corners of higher education. Conflict and disruption within the nation’s colleges and universities pushed many students and professors to question, at a very fundamental level, trust in what they so far had taken for granted. Patriotism, racial and sexual attitudes, political, economic, and ideological principles, family values, and local authority now impelled increasing critical attention. Many a thoughtful student in such difficult times could not avoid the question: “What is the purpose of my college education?”

One such student was Jane Beth Brotman, a freshman from New Jersey newly enrolled at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. David Maraniss’ recounting of the Vietnam era, They Marched Into Sunlight: War and Peace Vietnam and America October 1967, [2]describes how the youthful Ms. Brotman came face-to-face with the campus anti-war movement and struggled to articulate what a college education “ought to be” in a letter to her parents. What Brotman wrote in that letter and the questions it raises about a college education are still (using the oft-used word of that past era) “relevant” for today’s college students.

Eager to break away from her upper-middle-class, suburban background, ready for a different direction for her life and education, but anxious about what living and studying at the University of Wisconsin might prove to be, Brotman arrived on campus at a volatile moment. Anti-war demonstrators and radicals found no place in Brotman’s heart at the outset; at the same time, the young student had no room for the sorority scene and other such campus activities. “Caught between two distasteful worlds, she responded by pouring all her attention into her schoolwork.” [3]But Brotman’s devotion to study would soon be interrupted by demonstrations against the Dow Chemical Company and its on-campus recruiting.

Anti-war activists had taken a particular dislike to Dow Chemical for its manufacture of napalm. The horrors of napalm bombing in Vietnam (the malignant aftermath of Agent Orange had yet to be revealed) galvanized protests, and on-campus recruiting established Dow Chemical as a prominent target for demonstrations. In mid-October, a protest against Dow turned life on the U. W. campus violently upside down. As a “curious bystander,” Brotman witnessed the demonstration and brutal response by city police, and she could no longer be content to stand on the sidelines. [4]Within a week’s time, she attended a mass student rally, supported a student strike, decided not to take an important exam, and took the time to write a difficult, thoughtful letter to her father. [5]

Here’s that letter:

“You tell me that I ‘m here to STUDY—to stick my head in big fat books but to ignore the world around me. Well there’s a basic principle which you have overlooked, and that is there is more to an education than learning from books.

College is a big investment. For quite a lot less money I could have easily gone to the University of Maryland or another school close to home. I could have read the same books I read here, and for all practical purposes, I could have gotten a decent education there, too. So why did I have to go all the way to the U. of Wisconsin?

One of the major reasons for coming to this campus was due to the great diversification of the student body, and thus to the variations of existing ideas. In other words, I want to learn, I want to weigh every idea, I want to open my eyes to everything so I can make the best possible judgments.

As for today’s incident—I won’t be able to respect myself for not standing up for what I believe in. Would you be able to respect yourself? . . . I must take a stand. And in this case, my stand coincides with the students involved in the protest . . . .

. . . There is something else you must realize objectively. I respect your ideas and opinions very highly, for I realize that you have experienced many things during your lifetime. Yet I cannot possibly accept every one of your ideas, goals, or whatever, simply because you feel they are right. I must think about your ideas along with other ideas and evaluate them to the best of my ability. Then, and only then, can I accept or reject an idea (be it yours or someone else’s). For I am a human being, too; I have a head and I want to make use of it. You can’t possibly ask me, or demand, that I believe in something that I don’t.  That lies with me. Can you understand what I’m saying, or am I lacking clarity?

In order to operate as a functioning citizen in society, one must question and, if necessary, one must stand up for what he believes in and make himself heard. According to what you believe in, the Germans under Hitler acted in a justifiable manner—they didn’t question and they didn’t stand up to make themselves heard. They accepted something without thinking about it.

Does this mean I am a liberal? A communist? A left winger? I don’t think so. I would rather think that I am a responsible individual who is ready to grow up, and trying to do so.

I miss you a lot and love you,

         Jane

What Jane Brotman’s experienced in her first year as a college is interesting to say the least. Obviously, the dramatic, tense, and confusing campus environment of October, 1967—demanding extremely difficult and urgent personal decisions—is one most new college students these days will not encounter. Brotman’s serious thinking about what an education should be and what she should be (. . . and be struggling with) as a college student have a timeless importance.

Reading through Brotman’s letter to her father, a number of relevant (there’s that word again) questions arise for anyone thinking about “What is the purpose of my college education?” and “What is an educated person?” Try your hand at providing some answers:

1.  Where do you most agree and/or disagree with what Brotman writes in her letter? When you read through this letter, what makes the strongest impact on you?

2.  Have you ever felt like writing such a letter (or needed to write such a letter) to someone in your family? Is there anything in Brotman’s letter you would include in what you might write? If so, why?

3.  Does the Brotman letter echo any of the ideas or questions raised in what you are reading and discussing in your first year experience class?

4.  What in this letter would you use as a basis for further discussion (and developing a statement) about what makes an educated person? Why these selections, if any?

5.  Based on your experience so far in college study, would you recommend that students about to enter higher education read Brotman’s letter? Why/or why not?

6.  Imagine a time and circumstance in which you might need to write a letter to your family, friend, or members of your community. Now write such a letter, remembering to clearly state the issue(s) and your thinking. Also, make sure to include some response to the questions “What is an educated person?” and “What is the purpose of my education?”

7.  What are the conflicts that Brotman faces as a student and as an individual who wants to stand up for what she believes to be right? Can you imagine yourself in such a situation? What are the potential conflicts in such a situation you would face? Are there limits that a student in college must accept while trying to do what’s “right”? Can you identify what might be acceptable consequences, if any, for such a student attending a college or university?

8.  Parents, families, friends, schools, neighborhood communities, and religious institutions (and most likely, media and other elements of “popular culture) have a strong influence on the development of a person’s values and ways of looking at the world. For most of us, these values and perspectives are “hard wired” an early age. But the college experience, in all its aspects in and out of the classroom, involves meeting up with new ideas and concepts that challenge what a student might consider unquestionably tried and true. At this point in her life, when Jane Brotman looks back at her college experience, she concludes that becoming an “educated adult” involves “the willingness to engage in an emotional process” with the understanding that doing so involves combinations of these possible outcomes: (1) continuing to see earlier beliefs as valid and well-worth retaining; (2) altering and fine-tuning what once seemed plausible; (3) accepting new ideas and concepts (and in some instances, rejecting long held values and beliefs).  

Has your overall college experience to this point challenged your values and perspectives? How so? Does what you have considered so far about the “educated person ideal” offer any suggestions about how such challenges are best met and how you can grow as a learner and a person in the process? What do you think Jane Brotman means by “the willingness to engage in an emotional process”? Is it possible, your college study will lead to tensions/conflicts between you and your family? Friends? Community? Please explain.

9.  These are difficult economic times and the costs of a college education have increased substantially. In order to pursue a college degree, many students must take on loans and end up with significant debts at graduation. How might this economic reality (and, perhaps, pressures from parents) conflict with a student’s developing definition of an educated person? (For example, choices about courses to take and majors.) Are viable future career options and the ideal of an educated person irreconcilable? How would you respond to possible conflicts between the necessity to develop a future career and your vision of the educated person? How would you explain your reasoning to someone who says something like, “The reason you get a college degree is so you can earn a good living when you’re done.”

10.  Like Jane Brotman, many thoughtful students experience a crystal clear moment in their college years when these questions demand attention: “What is an educated person?” and “What is the purpose of my education?” Perhaps now is an appropriate moment to interview some of your friends, family, and others of your acquaintance about such moments of questioning and decision. Although your interviews will be quite informal, you should take a look at what makes for a good interview. (As a suggestion, look up some information on “how to do an oral history interview,” “research interviews,” etc.). A good rule of thumb is to think ahead about open-ended questions you can ask. Perhaps you could ask something like, “When you reflect on your college years, tell me about any times when you reached a decision point or critical moment concerning the ultimate purpose(s) of your undergraduate education, what it meant to be educated person, the value/goal of your major field of study other than making a living, or how you might have followed a different path in what you studied and how you learned as an undergraduate?”

11.  What other such examples (dilemmas?) can you construct? Do you have a friend or acquaintance whose experience might serve as an example? Based on what you have learned so far about the educated person, liberal education and the humanities, lifelong learning, and/or aspects of higher learning at your college, what advice would you offer to someone who fits the situations outlined in this section?

12.  Do you now have any additional understandings, skills, and traits that you would add to your developing ideas about the educated person? Anything you might add to “educated person requirements?” Choices for learning outside of the traditional classroom? Good teaching? The good student? Lifelong learning?

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[1] This is an extended assignment the author has constructed as a classroom exercise for students using his book, Thinking Ahead for College Success: A First Year Student’s Guide (Createspace, 2011). Ms. Jane Beth Brotman, now in Madison, Wisconsin suggested several questions and ideas for discussion.

[2] David Maraniss, They Marched Into Sunlight: War and Peace Vietnam and America October 1967 (New York: Simon and Schuster Paperbacks, 2003). Ms. Brotman is interviewed in the 2005 PBS documentary, Two Days in October.  For more information and transcripts: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/amex/twodays/

[3] Ibid., 89-90.

[4] Ibid., 424.

[5] Brotman’s letter to her father of October 19, 1967 is quoted extensively in Maraniss’ book. See pp. 424-26. As Maraniss reports, Brotman’s father “was so impressed” by his daughter’s letter that he sent a copy to the local newspaper. The South Orange (New Jersey) News Record used the entire letter in an editorial. Maraniss, They Marched Into Sunlight, footnote, 551.