In this paper, I heed the advice of hooks (1994) and Freire & Shor (1987) that there is value in the talking out of ideas. This paper is written in the form of a conversation between two parts of my divided self: me as radical pedagogue (RP) and me as traditional educator (TE). The purpose of this conversation is to examine some of the incongruence between what I teach and believe and my own pedagogical practice. I attempt to respond to Osborne (1990), Giroux (1997), and Sweet (1998), among others who argue that radical theory needs to move beyond educational ideology, examining how it can be meaningfully employed in classroom practice. I use my own lived experience within the post-secondary experiential education classroom as an opportunity to build upon radical theory through reflection and action as a means to develop ideals on effective radical classroom practice.
It was the end of the semester in my fourth year experiential education course. A student raised her hand and keenly queried, “If the potential for learning in a student-directed classroom is so great, why are we learning the theoretical concept and not actually experiencing a student-directed classroom firsthand?”
This question came as a direct response to a class discussion we were having about an article on the value of the student-directed classroom. The experiential education course that I instruct introduces students to issues of hegemony, commonly-held assumptions in education, and the theories of critical and radical pedagogies. Students are then encouraged to critically think, read, and write about how these topics inform their own experiences within the classroom. The overarching purpose of the course is to impel students to use their understanding of critical theory and radical pedagogy to begin to develop ideals about their own classroom practices.
The student’s query from the above narrative directly addressed my own long-standing concern about the gap between the content that I teach, my educational philosophy and my pedagogical practice. I am in my fifth year as a faculty member in the School of Outdoor Recreation, Parks, & Tourism at Lakehead University. I teach courses on outdoor leadership as well as a number of education-based courses. Much of the curriculum that I teach, both content and methodology, employs a critical framework and yet, as exemplified by the above narrative, my courses tend to emphasize critical theory over critical praxis. Freire (1970) suggested that educational praxis should combine both action and reflection as part of the educative process.
Praxis therefore integrates the intent of theory with purposeful practices and reflection.
The overarching purpose of this paper is to begin to more fully consider my own teaching praxis, by examining some of the lack of congruence between the radical pedagogical theory that I teach about and the ways in which I engage in forms of radical classroom praxis. My hope is that this paper will compel other educators to continue the process of examining their own practices, encouraging them to continue to work toward aligning their methodological desires with their methodological practices.
I will heed Giroux’s (1997) advice that theory and practice be explored through the use of a language of possibility. Giroux encourages educators to develop a theory of schooling that offers the possibility for counterhegemonic struggle. He contends that radical educators have failed to develop a practice that engages schools as sites of possibility, where students can be engaged in building the knowledge and skills of democracy. Giroux reinforces the need to return to a Deweyian vision of public schools as democratic spheres, where the skills of democracy can be practiced, debated, and analyzed.
I will be approaching the discussion of this topic through the form of a conversation with two parts of my divided self: my radical self (Radical Pedagogue-RP) and my traditional self (Traditional Educator-TE). In Teaching to Transgress, hooks (1994) introduces the reader to the notion that public dialogue is a useful means of examining educational assumptions. She uses this method of dialogue to provide what she calls “a model of possibility” to explore assumptions. hooks maintains, “Critical thinkers who want to change our teaching practices (must) talk to one another, collaborate in a discussion that crosses boundaries and create a space for intervention” (p. 129).
Freire and Shor (1987) further support the importance of dialogue when they suggest that the “idea of talking a book and not just writing a book is valuable” (p. 2). In A Pedagogy for Liberation, Freire and Shor use the form of dialogue to discuss ideas on liberatory education and transformation. They suggest that dialogue can offer a rigorous approach to ideas, facts, and problems, but offers a style that is itself creative and re-creative. “That is, in the last analysis you are re-creating yourself in dialogue” (p. 3).
The purpose of the self-dialogue in this paper will be to consider the ways in which I can better employ the theory of radical pedagogy within my own post-secondary classroom praxis despite some of the constraints. It will build upon the importance of developing an interrelationship between the theories that are taught and that students learn about and the pedagogy that is practiced (Gaianguest, 1998).
Traditional Educator (TE): Let’s start with what you presented in the above, opening narrative. I would like to better understand how that student’s query has led you to write this paper.
Radical Pedagogue (RP): That’s a good place to start the discussion, TE. I think that in my own mind I actually believed that teaching students about radical social theory and radical pedagogies would impel them to think more critically and to question assumptions. In essence, the student’s comment from the opening narrative highlighted a significant gap between what I was teaching about and how I was practicing.
TE: And why do you think that it is important to address this gap?
RP: Because I believe that not only the pedagogical content of a lesson but the actual pedagogical methods employed in instructing “teach” lessons.
TE: Say more about this.
RP : My belief about this stems from my own experiences as a student in women’s studies courses. I was introduced to a vision of what learning and schools “could be” and “ought to be.” What I learned is that curriculum could be liberating and that schools could operate as vehicles for social change. From there, I began a process of questioning educational hegemony within a broad context. Shor (1987) suggests that educators examine the factors that contribute to our notion of schools, questioning “what goes on in schools that makes an important difference, not only in the quality of a student’s life and learning, but also in the possible transformation of students, teachers, and of the society setting the curriculum” (p. 14).
TE: So, that’s the premise that you work from then? That schools should be intentional about their purpose and that the main purpose of public schools should be the reconstruction of society with the goal of resolving current social, political, and cultural crises?
RP: Yes, but it was Stanley (1992) who said that first. I also believe that schools should prepare students to think critically.
TE: I have a few questions, RP. What is educational hegemony and what would a liberating curriculum consist of?
RP: I think, TE, that you are probably very familiar with the idea of educational hegemony and that you may only be unfamiliar with the actual term. Think back to your days in the K-12 classroom, TE. What are some of your memories regarding teaching and learning within that context?
TE: I remember a lot of memorization. I remember being tested a lot. I also remember feeling somewhat intimidated by the teachers and the classroom setting.
RP: You are articulating some aspects of educational hegemony, TE. Giroux (1997) maintains that hegemony asserts itself in schools through a hidden curriculum that comprises the unstated norms, values, and beliefs embedded in the underlying rules that structure the routines and social relationships in school and classroom life. For example, when you talk about your memory of being tested a lot and feeling somewhat intimidated, these memories represent some of the hegemony that exists within school culture. Many teachers and school administrators believe that students will behave in the classroom if they feel a bit intimidated and will learn the course content best if they are tested on the material.
TE: Well, RP, I have to admit that I was a good student and I do feel that I learned a lot. And so I am not entirely convinced that this is an issue. What, specifically, is problematic about this approach in your opinion?
RP: In essence, TE, this is why I feel divided about the subject. I do believe that it is possible to learn in varying classroom climates, but for me the problem was that I was completely unaware that varying classroom environments even existed. The more liberating environment that I was finally introduced to during my years as a graduate student better “fit” my learning style and my needs as a student than the more “traditional” environment of my K-12 and undergraduate education.
TE: Okay, RP, so what does a liberating curriculum and classroom climate look like and how do you think that you learn differently or better?
RP: I remember one simple gesture that was made by one of my women’s studies professors that may help highlight this, TE. I had received a paper back from this particular professor but there was no mark on it, only comments. I was so accustomed to receiving marks on papers, TE, and to determining my success or failure based on that mark, that I was very uncertain about what this professor actually thought about my writing and my ideas in this particular paper.
TE: What you are saying resonates with me, RP. I have always been very focused on marks as a measure of success. What did you do?
RP: I went and knocked on the professor’s door. You know how when you enter a professor’s office, TE, there always seems to be one comfortable chair that the professor sits in and then some rickety old chair for the student?
TE: Yeah.
RP: Well, TE, the professor got up from her chair and offered it to me and she moved and sat in the uncomfortable rickety chair and asked me how I was.
TE: She sounds like a bit of an “odd ball” to me, RP. Why did this have such an impact on you?
RP: While the gesture itself was pretty simple, it did incite me to think about some of the assumptions about power relations and teacher/student hierarchy within the university system. Our discussion was pretty interesting too. She talked about how marks sometimes get in the way of a student’s ability to receive feedback. She thought that I may want to receive only written feedback first if I felt that the grade was inhibiting me from learning from her written comments and then offered me an opportunity to rewrite the paper.
TE: Wow! That does sound different, but it also sounds like a lot of work for you and for her.
RP: It was a lot more work for both of us, but it was also liberating for me because I had never been offered an opportunity to rewrite a paper and to authentically work on my writing in this way.
TE: So was the trade off worth it? If it was me, I am certain I would have opted to not rewrite the paper despite the professor’s offer. As a student, I was taking six of seven classes each semester and there is no way that I could have found the time to rewrite papers. The system simply isn’t set up for that. I remember receiving all of the course syllabi and assignments at the beginning of each semester and having a hard time imagining how I was ever going to manage the coursework. I can’t imagine what the workload would have been like if I had been encouraged to rewrite every paper and every assignment.
RP: You are right about the system, TE, but I think that I was so engaged by her counterhegemonic practices, that I thought that I would give them a try. The trade off, as you call it, was worth it for me, TE. I learned more from that process of writing and rewriting and talking about that paper than any other assignment that I had ever had. There were other aspects of that class that were equally educative, not only in terms of content but also in terms of the classroom practices.
TE: Say more about this.
RP: Many of these examples may seem rather elementary, but you have to remember, TE, that, similar to you, my previous experiences in K-12 and undergraduate education had been quite “traditional” up to this point.
TE: Okay, RP. You mentioned one example of counterhegemonic practice. Give me an example of another one.
RP: This same professor had us regularly sit in a circle throughout each class which further reduced the power differential between teacher and students and encouraged dialogue among students. In other words, she not only talked about the importance of dialogue, but she modeled that through her classroom practices. We also never had tests, which reduced the level of fear and intimidation which sometimes accompanies that form of assessment.
TE: Okay, but what about teaching the core content of a topic? How can student dialogue and no tests achieve those goals? What impelled students to want to learn the facts?
RP: Well TE, I used to be torn about this very same query myself. There were times when student dialogue was not enough for me. I wanted the professor to lecture and teach me the content. At the end of each class, I hardly had any written notes from the day’s “lesson” because it was mostly open-ended discussion and I was afraid that I wasn’t learning the material because it was so different than any of my previous experiences.
TE: I imagine that is how I would feel – frustrated and wanting more content. So how did you reconcile this tension?
RP: I have learned that my own notions about what constitutes a “fact” and a “truth” are not quite as clear cut as I have been led to believe.
TE: I am confused by what you are saying here RP. Truth is truth, that’s what we are taught. Why would there be any need to identify it? The process of “scientific curriculum-making” (Tyler, 1949) establishes immutable truths. Education represents the transmission of those truths. Tests and exams represent one means by which a teacher can assess a student’s acquisition of that knowledge. It seems so simple to me that I am thrown by your statement.
RP: Proponents of critical and radical pedagogy employ a more poststructural lens in the ways in which they regard truth. A poststructuralist would argue that truth is partial, situated, and contextual, rejecting the notion of ultimate truths and metanarratives (Haraway, 1991; Kincheloe, 2004).
TE : What about the scientific method? Does this no longer hold any value? I mean, really, RP, can you successfully argue that gravity, for example, is contextual, partial, and situated? Doesn’t the existence of gravity represent an ultimate truth?
RP : For me (and others like me), gravity exists as a truth because that truth has been constructed, in part through a process of scientific experimentation and in part through a process of social construction that includes experiential ways of knowing.
TE: Hold on, RP We seem to be making a big leap here. A moment ago, you were talking about your experiences as a student and talking about relatively simple adaptations to the physical space of the classroom as a form of counterhegemonic practice. You are now discussing notions of truth and curricular content.
RP: Well, TE, I did make a big leap, but I thought that we were ready because hegemony in schools assumes many different forms that include not only the physical space of the classroom but the content that gets taught and how it gets taught. I am additionally going to shift from a discussion of some of my earliest experiences with this as a student to my present experiences with this a professor. What do you think? Do you feel ready to make that leap, TE?
TE: I’ll try, but know that I am listening with some skepticism about all of this.
RP: I am aware of this, TE.
TE: Okay, so tell me more about your ideas about poststructuralism and its relationship to curriculum.
RP: According to many poststructuralists, students are being taught to believe a narrow sense of truth. Some of the early “”traditional” pedagogues, like Bagley (1905) and Tyler (1949), influenced not only curriculum, but school culture. These pedagogues emphasized the positivistic, scientific method as the only means to establish truth, fully disregarding other ways of knowing.
TE: You mentioned earlier the ways in which poststructuralists view truth differently, referring to the social construction of knowledge. Can you say more about this? What do you mean by “other ways of knowing,” RP?
RP: Let me give you an example of how my belief in poststructuralism actually influences my teaching and addresses your query. It is first important for me to tell you that I believe that content (I am wary of calling it “truth”) is taught not only through what we teach but through how we teach. I actually encourage students to be attentive to the ways in which I teach because my intent is that those methodologies provide knowledge in the same ways that transmitting information using a powerpoint presentation provides them with “knowledge.” I deliberately try to teach using a variety of methodologies that not only addresses but appeals to students’ different learning styles. By approaching my own teaching in this way, I am showing students that people arrive at knowledge (what some people refer to as “truths”) through various ways of knowing.
TE: I am having a hard time grasping this, RP. Could you give me an example of a content area that you would teach using this approach?
RP: Okay. I taught a class the other day on Gardner’s (1983) theory of multiple intelligences. I brought in a number of objects, including: musical instruments, art supplies, children’s books, sports equipment, etc. I created little activity centers around the room using these objects and told students that they could take 15 minutes to engage in whatever activities were of interest to them. We then got back together as a class and students talked about what activities they chose and why. I used the activity and the follow-up discussion as a springboard to then introduce the topic of multiple intelligences and learning styles. We talked about how students are intuitively drawn toward engaging in certain activities over other activities. I then talked about how important it is for schools and teachers to attend to the fact that students have different types of intelligences and learning styles. Students had also read about Gardner’s (1983) theory prior to coming to class. After the activity, we engaged in small group discussions about how different ways of learning and different ways of knowing help students critically think about and interpret “truths.”
TE: Are you telling me, RP, that in your opinion that is how “truth” is determined - through an individual’s interpretation? What “kind” of proof is there in that form of truth? It sounds very subjective and individualistic to me, RP.
RP: Not at all, TE. I use these activities and this discussion, alongside an understanding of poststructural theory as a means to introduce students to the idea that “truth” may come from sources outside of some of the “traditional” means that they have been introduced to. The more “traditional” sources of knowledge include: books, university lectures, peer-reviewed journal articles, etc. I do not negate the importance of these, nor the importance of history and research, but rather emphasize the need for other “kinds” of truths and other sources of knowledge to be considered alongside these more “traditional” sources, including their own experiences. Does that make sense, TE?
TE: It makes some sense but I am not yet wholly convinced. I am curious, however, RP about something that you mentioned regarding student learning. In what way do you think that students learn differently or better from this multiple methodologies approach than if you would have just used a powerpoint presentation to teach them about multiple intelligences, asked them to memorize the list of intelligences, and then tested them on it. I mean, really, RP, do you actually think that they learned the information because they engaged in an activity? It sounds a bit naïve to me. Do you have actual research to support this?
RP: Well, in part, I know that it works because experientially and intuitively, I have witnessed it. There is also research that has shown that teaching using a variety of methodologies does enhance students’ learning (Cantor, 1997; Scott, Buchanan, & Haigh, 1997).
TE: Okay, but could you provide me with some other examples of classroom practices.
RP: I would like to start using the term praxis, which I briefly defined in the introduction to this conversation.
TE: Can you remind me again what praxis means?
RP: Freire (1970) suggested that educational praxis should combine both action and reflection as part of the educative process. Praxis therefore integrates the intent of theory with purposeful practices and reflection.
TE: I like this term because it does not adopt a typical either/or stance. It does not reject theory in favor of practice. It seems to suggest that theory and practice are complementary.
RP: Yes, exactly, TE.
TE: Okay, RP, you were going to tell me more about the praxis of radical pedagogy.
RP: Radical teachers draw on student experience and student voice by developing a collaborative classroom practice.
TE: Similar to your own example in the women studies course.
RP: Yes, TE, but this may take many forms including the co-creation of a syllabus, varied methods of assessment, and collective decision-making regarding course materials. Radical teachers regard critical writing as a process, not an end product and therefore offer students opportunities to write drafts or rewrites of essays. Radical classroom practices proffer students an opportunity to question some of the “taken for granted” in education; the teacher acts as guide to this process, rather than acting in the role of an authority. This shift in roles can break down some of the inherent hierarchy within the classroom (Felder & Brent, 1996; Keesing-Styles, 2003).
TE: And these classroom practices are designed in part to encourage students to question some of the commonly held assumptions about society and education?
RP: Yes, students are encouraged to question those assumptions and to question all assumptions. In essence, the practice is designed to develop students’ ability to think critically.
TE: I remember studying a bit about the curriculum theorists as an education student. I have a clear memory of some of the early theorists, including Tyler (1949) and Taylor (1911). For them, the purpose of schools and the curriculum focused on the production of economically and socially useful citizens.
RP: Yes, that’s true TE, but did you also learn about curriculum reconceptualization?
TE: If I remember correctly, I think that it was Charters (1923), in his seminal book entitled Curriculum Construction, who suggested that method should take priority over content. He initiated the reconceptualization of the term curriculum through this idea, suggesting that curriculum consists of both course content and teaching method. For Charters (1923), the two central curricular questions should be “What knowledge is of most worth?” and “By what means shall we determine what we will teach?”
RP: Wow! You have a good memory.
TE: So, in light of Charters (1923) two central curricular questions and my understanding of what you have said thus far in our conversation, are you in essence suggesting that alongside the questions of, “What knowledge is of most worth?” and, “By what means shall we determine what we will teach?”, that educators should also consider the questions, “In what ways shall we teach it?” and “Toward what purpose?”
RP: Yes, TE, that’s it exactly and radical pedagogy in both theory and praxis provides educators with a framework in which to do that. Giroux (1997) and McLaren (2003), among others have laid the theoretical foundation for critical and radical pedagogy, impelling educators to consider the ways in which education can be a means for a more socially just world. Gore (1993), Britzman (2003), and Keesing-Styles (2003), among others, were some of the first to suggest that educators need to consider the lack of congruence between what they teach and the ways in which they teach, encouraging educators to develop a more radical praxis.
TE: Okay, RP, so this brings us back again to that ideal of radical praxis and how it gets employed within the post-secondary classroom. It also raises the question of how this form of praxis would achieve one of the intended aims of radical theory – the development of a more socially just world.
RP: Yes, TE, thanks for reminding us where we had left off. What I purport is that through redefining the purpose of schools as agents of social change and doing this through a radical methodology that questions commonly held assumptions, society can be reshaped.
TE: You know, I along with many others (Tyler, 1949; Willis, 1978) have questioned how rigorous this form of education can be. I have to admit this notion of developing a radical classroom practice in an effort to effect social change still sounds a bit abstract and lofty.
RP: Freire and Shor (1987) would contend that “we have been allowed to know only one definition of rigor, the authoritarian, traditional one, which mechanically structures education, and discourages us from the responsibility of recreating ourselves in society” (p. 77). Critical and participatory learning is rigorous. I want to remind you, TE, that we are talking about curriculum as being both content (body of knowledge) and methodology. The demands of a radical classroom may be, by their very nature, more rigorous than the demands of traditional classroom practice.
TE: I imagine that it must be difficult for students to enter into the process of questioning some of these commonly held assumptions when most of their school experiences have followed a more traditional model of knowledge transmission – what Freire (1970) would refer to as a “banking model” of education. I once read an article entitled “Canadian Perspectives on Critical Pedagogy” (Osborne, 1990) that talked about how critical classroom practice is completely alien to students. He spoke about how students felt that this “new” (radical) model of classroom practice was simply imposed upon them, with no preparation for this method of learning. How do you address that concern?
RP: You make a good point here, TE. Shor (1980) shares a similar concern to that of Osborne. He suggests that it would be difficult to find fault in a student at the university level who resisted the liberatory classroom. Students have spent nearly 13,000 hours engaged in the pervasive repetition of material, under the regimentation of a highly structured classroom experience that is lifeless. “To them, liberated classrooms will be unfamiliar and threatening, at first” (p. 36). Freire and Shor (1987) also contend that “students are long-habituated to passive schooling, which make some feel I have no right to make critical demands on them” (p. 25).
TE: You know, I haven’t read much of the literature on this, but was it hooks (1994) who wrote that to be a “good” student, one must be silent, passive, and accepting?
RP: Yes, and hooks (1994) went on to say that a “good” student’s primary purpose has traditionally been to learn the knowledge the educator imparts, in an unquestioning manner.
TE: So, have you experienced any resistance on the part of students to engage with the form of radical praxis that you are proposing if so many pedagogues agree that the majority of student’s past classroom experiences have prepared them for something else?
RP: Yes, I have certainly experienced some student resistance. Many students may actually be unable to even notice or respond to a more egalitarian mode of classroom practice. I often ask a similar question to what Giroux and McLaren (1994) pose in their book Between Borders: Pedagogy and the Politics of Cultural Studies. “How then do our students overcome years of notions of what is normative” (p. 152)?
TE: It sounds to me as though this issue of adequately preparing students to engage in radical classroom praxis is a key element to its success.
RP: Yes. Sweet (1998) in an article entitled “Practicing Radical Pedagogy: Balancing Ideals with Institutional Constraints” wholeheartedly agrees with your contention when he talks about students difficulty with participating in serious critical thinking and dialogue due to inadequate preparation.
TE: So, what’s the solution?
RP: I wish that I knew, and I think that this would be an interesting topic to study. There is not much research that has been done on it to date. One thing that I do suspect is that the earlier that students are introduced to radical classroom practices, the better prepared they will be in successive years. I also think that more time and energy needs to be invested in teacher training. In discussing some of the problems associated with teacher preparation today, Giroux (1988) provides some insight into how teacher education is heavily influenced by mainstream behavioral and cognitive psychology and that “educational theory has been constructed around a discourse and set of practices that emphasize immediate, measurable, methodological aspects of learning” (p. 163). He contends that while an interest in social theory has played a significant role in reconstituting radical educational theory, it has not made serious inroads into teacher education programs. It would appear that teacher education programs might be one place to focus some attention.
TE: I know that you believe that schools are one potential site for the reconstruction of society and I have heard what you have just said about the importance of teacher training and the potential of radical praxis to work toward the development of a more socially just world, but there seems to be a lot of tension between this ideal and the reality of present-day school culture.
RP: What do you mean, TE?
TE: Today, schools are measured by how well students perform on standardized tests (McLaren, 2003). Much of the curriculum is constructed around preparing students for success with those standardized tests. It’s hard for me to imagine a teacher training program that ignores that reality and focuses on the ideal of training teachers to engage in radical classroom praxis. I hate to be this direct about it, RP, but I think that it’s time you “get real!”
RP: As much as I hate to admit this, you are right, in part. I think this quote frames my answer to this question quite nicely: “It is argued that college professors are free to teach radical theory, but that radical pedagogy is hindered by institutional constraints” (Sweet, 1998, p. 100). Some professors lecture about the dangers of the “banking model” of education (Freire, 1970) and they espouse the merits of student voice and having the curriculum grow out of student experience, but there is great hesitancy and resistance to applying this theory in the form of radical classroom practice (Gaianguest, 1998). I think that helps inform your question about why educators are not experiencing the systemic change in the educational system that they believe is possible. My own students ask me all the time, if Dewey was talking about these ideals in the 1930s, why does the discussion sound the same today, in the year 2006? It is a great question!
TE: Tell me more.
RP: As Gaianguest (1998) suggests, “for aspiring radical teachers to be able to promote pedagogical change within the confines of current institutions, they need to have sources of support (often external to their department and/or institution) and a clear understanding of a workable approach to pedagogical revisions” (p. 124). Both she and Sweet agree that teachers need extensive and continual training to implement radical approaches. Gainguest (1998) further recommends that radical pedagogues identify one area of change that has a likelihood of success and that all faculty be encouraged to work toward supporting that effort.
TE: Could you give me one example of an area of change?
RP: Yes, I once worked at a K-12 school that adopted this approach. At the end of each academic year, the entire faculty and staff would receive a book. Over the summer, we were encouraged to critically read and review the book. The author of the book would then be invited into the school to do a series of presentations and workshops that related to the particular theme of the book and the particular theme of our curriculum development for that year.
TE: What were some of the books that you read?
RP: Well, I have a particularly fond memory of reading Kohn’s (1993) book Punished by Rewards: The Trouble with Gold Stars, Incentive Plans, A’s, Praise, and Other Bribes. The faculty then spent the majority of that year discussing how to adopt less competitive assessment methods within our classrooms and how to adopt alternative teaching styles. Because we spent the majority of the year on this one theme, the faculty as a whole made a lot of progress with this.
TE: From what you are saying, RP, that particular school did not seem to be affected by some of the institutional constraints that you were referring to earlier. What are some of the present institutional constraints that exist within post-secondary institutions that inhibit radical praxis, in your opinion?
RP: How much time do you have? No, I’m just kidding. Let me talk about a few of them. For one thing, a radical classroom practice requires that teachers spend a great deal of time, energy, and effort with students. The teaching practices emphasize well-being and are therefore more demanding (hooks, 1994). Shor (1980) agrees, maintaining that, “this is a very demanding way to teach and to learn. You (I) have to listen carefully all the time. You cannot do one preparation for several classes, because the same process rarely reproduces itself in different groups of students” (p. 101).
TE: I remember wondering about that myself when you talked about your earlier experiences as a student in the women’s studies classroom and being offered the opportunity to rewrite papers. It sounded like a lot of work for you as the student, but it is also a lot of work for the professor. I imagine that there is an increased time commitment related to many aspects of radical classroom praxis and that this may be prohibitive for some professors, particularly in light of the fact that in many universities, teaching is not always valued with respect to promotion and tenure.
RP: You have brought up a very important issue here, TE. Marchant and Newman (1994) have researched this exact topic and found that teaching is only marginally valued at an institutional level at most universities. They concluded that the “career-minded professor may be wise to minimize the time he or she takes to do quality teaching in order to devote time to publishing” (p. 151). Further research has suggested that even in teaching colleges, professors who devote excessive time to teaching may forego cultivating the necessary social capital that could facilitate career advancement (Mauksch, 1986).
TE: Are there other institutional factors?
RP: Yes. According to Sweet (1998), student evaluations can be problematic for the radical teacher in that the pedagogical approach will tend to produce more polarized assessment in comparison to their more conservative counterparts. Standardized teaching evaluations do not necessarily offer a good measure of the successes of radical classroom practice (Sweet, 1998). Additionally, other criteria that are used for decisions of tenure and promotion discourage radical pedagogy (Gaianguest, 1998; Sweet, 1998).
TE: In the face of these constraints, RP, why do you and others continue to engage in radical praxis? I, myself, imagine that I would become frustrated by these constraints and could see myself resorting to more “traditional” tactics, as a “knee jerk reaction” to some of these challenges.
RP: I think that most radical pedagogues continue to engage in radical praxis because of their belief in the transformative potential of this form of teaching and learning (Gaianguest, 1998; hooks, 1994). I also think that most radical pedagogues regard their praxis as a “work in progress” and are fairly realistic about the lack of student preparation and the potential for resistance as well as the institutional constraints. There are some semesters where I either have more energy or I know that the students will be more responsive to these forms of praxis and so I take more “risks” and more fully engage in the praxis.
TE: Tell me more about this.
RP: Being relatively new to teaching at the university level, I came into the post-secondary classroom with a fairly idealistic approach. I have certainly “bumped up” against some of the constraints that we have already talked about.
TE: What would be an example of the idealistic approach that you mentioned?
RP: One aspect of my teaching that I put a fair bit of emphasis on is writing. What I mean by that is that I encourage students to begin to develop writing skills that go beyond simple summary. I teach them and encourage them to develop critical reading and writing skills that ideally would translate into the development of the critical thinking skills that are such a necessary part of a radical classroom practice.
TE: That sounds reasonable. What has your experience been with that?
RP: I have definitely seen the lack of adequate preparation that we discussed earlier. What I have learned is that students have rarely been offered the opportunity to critically reflect on what they are reading. They actually have very little skill translating their thoughts into critical writing.
TE: So, how is this reflected in their papers?
RP: Not always, but typically, students write extended personal reflections that “read” more like a journal entry than an academic paper. They do not understand that their writing needs to be supported within a theoretical context.
TE: It seems to me that if students lack adequate preparation and are being encouraged to write creatively and reflectively for the first time, it is not surprising that the result is an unsupported, stream-of-consciousness paper.
RP: I see that more clearly now. I have learned a lot from my students. I have worked hard to better prepare them to write critically.
TE: How?
RP: I first have them read about what it means to critically read, write, and think and then we practice it in class. In this way, they learn that to critique (or critically read) a piece of writing does not mean to criticize what the author is saying. They learn that they need to support their critique with outside sources. This leads into a discussion about why they need to learn how to use the Publication Manual of the American Psychological Association (APA) (2002) to reference those sources.
TE: Why do they need to use APA?
RP: Well, it doesn’t need to be APA necessarily, but it is important that students use some method to cite outside sources. Most importantly, students need to understand that their individual insights alone are not enough if they are attempting to draw “new” conclusions., thus the need for outside sources. I remind students that we are teaching and learning within a university context (a context that we chose) and that there are requirements and limitations inherent to that context. Students will often argue that if we (as a class) are attempting to resist some of the constraints of the university context and are questioning educational hegemony, how can I use such a “traditional, hegemonic” reply to the question of APA.
TE: I guess they could use that argument about a number of the institutional constraints that resist radical classroom practice, including: grades, teacher-student power within the classroom, deadlines, quizzes, and exams. This list could go on and on.
RP: Yes, and this is where some of that internal tension exists for me. I have “played around” with this a bit.
TE: What are the results?
RP: I will try and instigate some of the counterhegemonic practices that radical pedagogy as theory supports. I have tried offering students rewrites for their papers (so they can develop the ability to critically write successfully), I have been flexible about due dates, I have offered them choices about assessment methods and course materials. I try to increase their level of responsibility within the classroom through methods of self-assessment and peer assessment. I provide them with a framework on how to complete an assignment but do not always provide students with a rigid structure that informs every aspect of my expectations and their assessment.
TE: And?
RP: I still practice some of these but have now rejected others, such as rewriting papers in favor of reviewing drafts, as a result of some of my experiences. I think one piece of feedback that I struggle with the most is that students ask for more structure and direction and then argue that their freedom of intelligence and the liberatory classroom practice is compromised as a result. For example, I try to reject prescriptive criteria in my marking, suggesting to students that there are a number of different ways to attain an A on a paper. I will return a paper to them filled with constructive (and critical) comments and if they do not achieve an A, they often wholly disregard the actual comments and I hear them mumbling to each other, “I just wish that she had told us at the beginning what she wanted us to do to get an A.” They are so accustomed to writing to fulfill a certain set of prescribed criteria and to writing a paper according to what they think the professor wants, not writing a paper that is truly their own. When this happens, I often provide a rubric for the next assignment, trying to accommodate their need for clearer criteria. Students often respond to this by saying that they wrote their papers with the rubric at their side and that the process was inhibiting to their creativity and writing.
TE: So, what do you do?
RP: It can be challenging to respond to students’ needs and to remember that my greater maturity of experience (Dewey, 1938) puts me in a position of privilege. In a sense, I need to remember that a comment from one or two students should not affect my teaching practice each and every time. I need to facilitate the learning process to the best of my ability. One way that I do this is to continue to include the students in the teaching and learning process. I talk with students at the beginning of class and throughout the semester about how building a classroom community that is based on trust and an ethic of care and is simultaneously rigorous is challenging. I tell them that the process for me is a bit like establishing a backyard fence. I ask the students what it is like to play in a backyard that is too small. Their responses typically include: it is constraining, it is safe (but too safe!), it inhibits freedom of movement, and it limits choice. I ask them what it is like to play in a very large backyard and they agree that it is liberating (but possibly too liberating because they may choose to run away). Too much space can be as paralyzing as too little space; students argue that they may seek out something or someone who they deem to be safe if the space is so big that it is uncomfortable. I use this metaphor as a means to discuss how creating a teaching and learning environment is similar to creating a space in which to play. As a class, we then begin to decide what “kinds of things” each of us needs to create an environment that maximizes our learning.
TE: Like what?
RP: Students agree that they will most likely not do a required reading for a course unless there is a mark attached to it. They contend that when there are marked assignments and unmarked assignments, they will almost always choose to focus on the marked assignments, letting go of the unmarked assignments. Once they’ve recognized this themselves, I then encourage students to work together in small groups to determine what would be a reasonable and fair way to encourage them to read the required reading. They then begin the process of determining one aspect of the syllabus and one aspect of the assessment themselves.
TE: Does it always work or are there setbacks?
RP: There are definitely occasional setbacks and what works for one class in any given semester may or may not work again for the next class. For example, this semester I am teaching a student-directed classroom, incorporating a number of student-directed classroom models and an array of radical classroom practices. Just when I think that they are “getting it” by showing some responsibility for their learning and by critically engaging in the material, they exhibit their lack of preparation, and my own weaknesses in adequately preparing them for this level of critical engagement, by resorting back to an intense need for structure when it comes to assignments and marking. Students want to be liberated and still know what they need to do to get an A +.
TE: I can totally understand that. I have that same need to achieve high marks. Don’t you?
RP: Yes. Although I try and resist that need, I would react the same way.
TE: So, how can you blame them?
RP: I don’t blame them but I do become frustrated and as a result, I sometimes overreact and reinstitute rigid practices.
TE: What are some examples of these more rigid practices?
RP: I will hand back a student’s paper unmarked if she has neglected to use APA or proofread her work for spelling and grammar errors and content. A few of my students “abuse” the option to rewrite by producing a poorly written paper initially, knowing that I will spend a great deal of time on the feedback and then they come back to me and say, “Oh good, now that I know what you want, can I have two weeks to complete the rewrite?” This furthers my frustration. I feel as though they take advantage of my generosity and I fall back into my “traditional” self and provide the constraints that I think they need.
TE: What is the reaction?
RP: A few students will say, “Well I guess that student-directed classrooms are just a utopian dream.”
TE: Ouch! What do you do?
RP: I try to remember that teaching and learning is a process and attempt to continue to be responsive to them while recognizing some of the inherent limitations to the process. Specifically with regard to the issue of “rewrites,” I now have students submit early drafts of papers. That is one example of how I have achieved a better balance so that I am meeting their needs and still maintaining some of my own sanity. I also find solace in what Weiler (2001), perhaps somewhat cynically, refers to as the impossibility of implementing critical (radical) pedagogy within the classroom.
TE: What does she mean by impossible?
RP: Ellsworth (1992) refers to this as “coming up against stuck place after stuck place” as a way to keep moving within “the impossibility of teaching” in order to produce and learn from ruptures, failures, breaks, and refusals (p. 9).
TE: That is a great quote. Earlier you referred to the practice of radical pedagogy as a project of possibility. I think that Ellsworth (1992) and Weilers’ (2001) remarks really resonate with that. Radical classroom praxis may be understood theoretically but may not be easy to implement in practice. Ellsworth’s notion of coming up against “stuck place after stuck place” informs and reshapes that practice, in much the same way as what you seem to be doing.
RP: Thank you.
TE: In that light, I think that you are accurate in regarding your own praxis as a “work in progress,” rather than as a fixed entity. Our discussion has certainly clarified for me some of the shortcomings of my practices as a traditional educator. I am encouraged by a great deal of what you have said here and am beginning to believe in the potential for change that you highlighted earlier. I think that it is going to be “slow-going” but I am enthusiastic about your project of possibility.
RP: Thanks again; your words of encouragement mean a lot to me. I feel as though I am leaving this dialogue wishing that it could go on, but I also feel that I need to digest all of what has been said and further reflect on our exchange. I hope that we can talk more about this at a later date.
TE: I would enjoy that as well.
In a very practical sense, developing a radical classroom practice within the university context represents both possibilities and limitations. For me personally, the tension that exists between these two impels me to improve my practice.
I can admit that I am mostly joyous in the classroom and with my students. The joy far outweighs the struggles. When I return to the description of my experience in the opening narrative of this paper, I am unable to express in words the profound awakening that that student engendered in me. It has informed and reshaped my own practice.
Despite all the limitations, the classroom remains a location of possibility. It is a place where I hope to continue to struggle, to teach, to learn, to be open, to listen, and to face reality. I believe that a radical classroom practice can support public schools as sites for the reconstruction of society, working toward a revision of a “just” world, socially, politically, economically, and culturally.
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