Wednesday, October 24, 2012
The day he's arrested he's splitting his time between drug dealing, picking up pay offs, cooking for his Sunday backyard barbecue and dropping off the dry cleaning for his wife. It's a marvelous bit of film making that knots together the banal day-to-day triviality he has to do with the larger than life criminal activities he's wrapped up in. And then the FBI shows up.
I always think of this scene around mid semester when I'm running about trying to keep every ball in the air. Yesterday, for example, was non-stop: last minute grading, pulling a lesson plan out of thin air, dealing with a problematic student, getting ready for registration week, picking up the kid, nagging him about practicing his viola, making dinner, dealing with the moles in the side yard, reading late-arriving core proposals, and fretting about a presentation I'm delivering in Rhode Island next Monday that isn't anywhere close to finished. Meanwhile the papers to grade just keep coming...
A visit from the FBI might actually be welcome at this point.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Sent: Wednesday, October 10, 2012 1:30 AM
Subject: FA2012-FA-LIBA110I: Nothing important
Have you heard of the song The Cave by Mumford and Sons? I just heard it today and as I was listening, I was shocked-- they were definitely referencing to Plato's Allegory of the Cave. Just thought I'd share!
I love it when stuff in class connects to stuff out of class! Mostly I love it when my students are doing the connecting. I've no doubt that song is referencing Plato's Allegory. Indeed, the Allegory is one of the hallmarks of Western philosophy and its themes pop up everywhere, including "The Matrix" movies:
"You take the blue pill, the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes."
The next four years should be full of realizations that the stuff you didn't notice before is somehow all connected. Welcome to the rabbit hole.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
In addition, we've been exploring the idea that such people inevitably get into trouble. We read the Apology and Crito in which Socrates runs afoul of his fellow Athenians. We also studied a bit of Machiavelli, who argued leaders that follow this model of probity are likely to meet with what destroys them. And we just finished watching Ibsen's An Enemy of the People, which wonderfully illustrates what happens to those who speak truth to power. In the end, society may need its critics and truth-tellers, but it doesn't often like them.
Now we are reading Martha Nussbaum's Not For Profit: Why Democracy Needs the Humanities, so I asked the students to bring three question about the reading yesterday. Then I put them into groups and had them take turns leading discussion on Nussbaum's ideas. Some hadn't come prepared; others had read the wrong chapter. So I gave the class a chance to write a few more questions. Then I got them into their groups.
The set up was this: you guys are on your own. I'm not taking part in the discussions. I'm off to Siberia for the next 35 minutes. At first, the students were shy and quiet. Somebody would grudgingly throw out a question and everyone would stare at the book until somebody felt too uncomfortable, broke and began mumbling a few hesitating words of response. Slowly--it took nearly 15 minutes--the groups got going. They got off topic, circled back on topic and eventually everyone had something to contribute. I just watched as bunch of sleepy and a bit grouchy twenty-somethings went from "this is dumb" to a somewhat interesting conversation about Nussbaum's argument.
When we were done I asked them to evaluate their discussions. Did their conversation provide any deeper insight into Nussbaum's ideas? Most said it had, but they could have done better. What would have made it better? I asked. They threw out a few suggestions.
Then I put the term "self-directed learning" on the whiteboard and explained that today they had asked the questions, they had lead the discussion and they had evaluated their own performance. What if, I asked, I began allowing them to select the texts we read? After all, what they had done was the most normal, natural, organic pedagogy in human history: just people talking to each other. What's unnatural is a group of human beings sitting in neat rows listening to a so-called expert who selects the questions, has all the answers and is the only one empowered to evaluate performance and progress. How would they like to blow up the system and learn in a much less contrived, top-down fashion?
A few shook their heads. Too radical. Never work. That's a ton of work.
"But if the goal is to turn out independently-minded critical thinkers, how useful is an authority-centered model of education? Can we create vertical critical thinkers by training and rewarding people to be passive recipients of the sacred, authoritative truths?"
So I told them the story of Fast Eddie, a high school classmate of mine, who always bore an illegal smile and (so the rumor went) occasionally huffed gas to get high. Our government teacher assigned us one day to copy backwards word-for word the preamble of the U.S. Constitution and to have it on his desk by the next class period. We all dutifully did as he commanded -- all but Eddie (who seldom completed any assignment). Once we had turned in our backward preambles, the teacher announced that everyone but Eddie had failed because he was the only one smart enough to know that this was a ridiculous assignment and not worth doing. "You people are going to be graduating soon. You have to start thinking for yourselves."
My class glared resentfully at me as I finished the story. I had just played a trick on them and they didn't like it. As we started to leave, one of the students asked if they were supposed to turn in the notes of their discussions for me to grade. I just kind of shrugged and said, "They were your discussions, not mine."
"But then we did all this writing for nothing?"
Sigh. Learning means nothing if there isn't a treat doled out for the effort.
The entire class period made the larger point, or maybe it didn't. In either case, I don't think it made me too popular. Every system probably needs its critics, but that doesn't mean it really wants them. Come to think of it, I rather resented that smug little jerk of a high school government teacher too. Never forgot him, though.
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