Fellow teachers,
Let me begin this letter by stating my own frustration with the recent presidential election. Mr. Trump was not my preference for the office, and I understand much of the frustration spreading across the country and in our universities. This election has been unlike any other, and everyone will have to deal with the shock for quite some time.
But I'm even more bothered by the reactions to the election that have presented themselves in classrooms, specifically by teachers. Yesterday's Chronicle of Higher Education ran pieces in which professors the following morning "didn't know how to get up and teach" their respective courses. Another professor "spent most of the day figuring out how she would face her class." One English teacher was supposed to introduce Emily Dickinson this week, and instead she "felt an obligation to create a safe space for her students to talk about the election." Funny, I don't remember Emily Dickinson being a part of the Trump campaign. The teacher decided to probe students' emotions and ask "questions about how socioeconomic groups were dealing with the results of the voting." And she "felt a responsibility to start more robust discussions of race, racism, Islamophobia, and misogyny." As someone who teaches the poetry of Ms. Dickinson, I'm assured Islamophobia was never on her radar.
Inside Higher Ed also ran pieces about distraught teachers. One professor said, “I don’t feel I can have or lead a civil discussion about the election. … I decided not to lecture or follow my original plans for today's classes." She also sent messages to students to "hang in there, do the minimum, don't overdo today, and go home as soon as you can." Because whenever life gets frustrating, it's always a good idea to do the minimum and go home early.
Reading of these teachers in our nation's higher education institutions makes me ashamed to consider myself a colleague.
These teachers claim that they are placing their students' needs to vent frustrations above academic priorities. And this may be a valid perspective--outside of the classroom. Unless you teach political science, government, and maybe history, diving into controversial political discussions is probably an inappropriate use of precious class time and even more precious tuition dollars. Chat after class, invite students to your office, go hang out in the cafeteria--these are great opportunities for sociopolitical contextualizing of current events. And it is this access to different minds and voices, along with the freedom to express a variety of views, that make college such a valuable part of our national fabric. But this type of reactionary rhetoric and endless navel-gazing only hinders our more immediate purpose as educators and diminishes our respectability in the broader culture.
If I were a parent spending $40,000 per year to have my child educated in literature, biology, computer science, or other fields, I would be mortified to learn professional educators don't feel like showing up to their place of employment (likely funded by taxpayers, by the way) and teaching the content for which the students signed up to learn. If my child were to go to a job interview at a marketing firm and have to tell a potential boss, "I didn't really learn how to run an advertising campaign in my business classes, but I did get a chance to talk about my emotions a lot," I would demand my money back.
A large portion of the country doesn't have a very high opinion of us. They say we are intellectual elites who aren't really governed by the rest of the working world. They say we lack ideological diversity. (And as IHE admits, there are nearly twelve times as many people on one side of political debate as the other.) They say colleges have become venues for ideological indoctrination. When we spend time lamenting a particular political result, and it interferes with our professional performance, aren't we proving all those people right? That we care less about education, skill development, and career preparation than we do about displaying and protecting our own worldviews?
The best way to approach political frustrations is to play the opposite game. Let's imagine if back in 2008, students across the country showed up to class angry about Barack Obama winning the presidency over John McCain. What if they were concerned about his domestic and foreign policies, that healthcare costs were going to rise and terrorist cells would multiply (both of which actually ended up happening); or that they were scared of his plans to "fundamentally transform America" because he and his wife "have never been proud of our country." Would we have stopped our classes and talked through students' emotions? Would we have consoled them if they cried tears of disappointment? We probably would've said one of three things: "Stop whining--your racism is showing." "What a new president says and what he actually does is rarely the same because he has to deal with Congress and a variety of other people." "He just got elected two days ago, so let's wait and see how all this develops." From what we see on websites like the Chronicle and IHE, however, along with the countless twitter feeds that have been circulating, we would never have given voice to those students' concerns or sympathize with teachers who didn't want to get out of bed the next morning. If Mrs. Clinton would have been elected this week, would we provide comfort to Trump supporters, create safe spaces, or open dialogues with them?
Mrs. Clinton said in her concession speech, "We owe [Trump] an open mind and a chance to lead." President Obama said this week, “We are now all rooting for his success in uniting and leading this country. Everybody is sad when their side loses an election. But the day after, we have to remember that we’re actually on one team. This is an intramural scrimmage. We’re not Democrats first. We’re not Republicans first. We’re Americans first. We’re patriots first.” Whether those sentiments are genuine or not can only be known by the two them, respectively. But are we in academics forging forward with optimism? Are we living up to the "tolerant" and "open-minded" ideals we espouse so often?
As professionals, our job is to show up every day and do our best to provide students the information and skills they need to be successful in this world. Certainly there are many of you who believe these lamentations are helping to do just that. But when we behave in one way, without ever considering an opposing view, we are demonstrating the monolithic nature of campus ideologies. When we constantly hear that the divide between political beliefs is larger than ever, these actions only exacerbate that problem. The country is witnessing, at our universities, the very hegemony we claim to be struggling against.
I understand there are concerns about what a Trump presidency will look like, and that there may eventually be policies that adversely affect both students and teachers. But let us not be distracted from our daily calling. As an English professor, I believe in English, not politicians. I believe in the power of language and the beauty of literature. I believe in well structured essays that make clear arguments. I believe in uncovering the humanity within the pages of history, how people of all types have overcome hardships, lived virtuously, and inspired others. I believe that the study of English transcends the debates that divide us and offers us opportunities to achieve our better selves.
I have no problem getting out of bed each day, no matter who is in office. In fact, I haven't uttered a word of the election results in any of my courses, and all of them have run smoothly. When something stressful comes up in my life, I look forward to putting a smile on my face and saying, "Good morning everybody, let's dive into some Faulkner/Cather/Douglass/Marquez/Austen today!" Students take their cues from their teachers. If teachers are focused on the task at hand, their students will follow. If teachers are the cause of distraction, their students will also follow. I will continue to do my job teaching reading, writing, logic, literature, communication, and research. And I don't need to think about either of this year's terribly flawed candidates to do so.
We are the adults. Let's get to work.
Let me begin this letter by stating my own frustration with the recent presidential election. Mr. Trump was not my preference for the office, and I understand much of the frustration spreading across the country and in our universities. This election has been unlike any other, and everyone will have to deal with the shock for quite some time.
But I'm even more bothered by the reactions to the election that have presented themselves in classrooms, specifically by teachers. Yesterday's Chronicle of Higher Education ran pieces in which professors the following morning "didn't know how to get up and teach" their respective courses. Another professor "spent most of the day figuring out how she would face her class." One English teacher was supposed to introduce Emily Dickinson this week, and instead she "felt an obligation to create a safe space for her students to talk about the election." Funny, I don't remember Emily Dickinson being a part of the Trump campaign. The teacher decided to probe students' emotions and ask "questions about how socioeconomic groups were dealing with the results of the voting." And she "felt a responsibility to start more robust discussions of race, racism, Islamophobia, and misogyny." As someone who teaches the poetry of Ms. Dickinson, I'm assured Islamophobia was never on her radar.
Inside Higher Ed also ran pieces about distraught teachers. One professor said, “I don’t feel I can have or lead a civil discussion about the election. … I decided not to lecture or follow my original plans for today's classes." She also sent messages to students to "hang in there, do the minimum, don't overdo today, and go home as soon as you can." Because whenever life gets frustrating, it's always a good idea to do the minimum and go home early.
Reading of these teachers in our nation's higher education institutions makes me ashamed to consider myself a colleague.
These teachers claim that they are placing their students' needs to vent frustrations above academic priorities. And this may be a valid perspective--outside of the classroom. Unless you teach political science, government, and maybe history, diving into controversial political discussions is probably an inappropriate use of precious class time and even more precious tuition dollars. Chat after class, invite students to your office, go hang out in the cafeteria--these are great opportunities for sociopolitical contextualizing of current events. And it is this access to different minds and voices, along with the freedom to express a variety of views, that make college such a valuable part of our national fabric. But this type of reactionary rhetoric and endless navel-gazing only hinders our more immediate purpose as educators and diminishes our respectability in the broader culture.
If I were a parent spending $40,000 per year to have my child educated in literature, biology, computer science, or other fields, I would be mortified to learn professional educators don't feel like showing up to their place of employment (likely funded by taxpayers, by the way) and teaching the content for which the students signed up to learn. If my child were to go to a job interview at a marketing firm and have to tell a potential boss, "I didn't really learn how to run an advertising campaign in my business classes, but I did get a chance to talk about my emotions a lot," I would demand my money back.
A large portion of the country doesn't have a very high opinion of us. They say we are intellectual elites who aren't really governed by the rest of the working world. They say we lack ideological diversity. (And as IHE admits, there are nearly twelve times as many people on one side of political debate as the other.) They say colleges have become venues for ideological indoctrination. When we spend time lamenting a particular political result, and it interferes with our professional performance, aren't we proving all those people right? That we care less about education, skill development, and career preparation than we do about displaying and protecting our own worldviews?
The best way to approach political frustrations is to play the opposite game. Let's imagine if back in 2008, students across the country showed up to class angry about Barack Obama winning the presidency over John McCain. What if they were concerned about his domestic and foreign policies, that healthcare costs were going to rise and terrorist cells would multiply (both of which actually ended up happening); or that they were scared of his plans to "fundamentally transform America" because he and his wife "have never been proud of our country." Would we have stopped our classes and talked through students' emotions? Would we have consoled them if they cried tears of disappointment? We probably would've said one of three things: "Stop whining--your racism is showing." "What a new president says and what he actually does is rarely the same because he has to deal with Congress and a variety of other people." "He just got elected two days ago, so let's wait and see how all this develops." From what we see on websites like the Chronicle and IHE, however, along with the countless twitter feeds that have been circulating, we would never have given voice to those students' concerns or sympathize with teachers who didn't want to get out of bed the next morning. If Mrs. Clinton would have been elected this week, would we provide comfort to Trump supporters, create safe spaces, or open dialogues with them?
Mrs. Clinton said in her concession speech, "We owe [Trump] an open mind and a chance to lead." President Obama said this week, “We are now all rooting for his success in uniting and leading this country. Everybody is sad when their side loses an election. But the day after, we have to remember that we’re actually on one team. This is an intramural scrimmage. We’re not Democrats first. We’re not Republicans first. We’re Americans first. We’re patriots first.” Whether those sentiments are genuine or not can only be known by the two them, respectively. But are we in academics forging forward with optimism? Are we living up to the "tolerant" and "open-minded" ideals we espouse so often?
As professionals, our job is to show up every day and do our best to provide students the information and skills they need to be successful in this world. Certainly there are many of you who believe these lamentations are helping to do just that. But when we behave in one way, without ever considering an opposing view, we are demonstrating the monolithic nature of campus ideologies. When we constantly hear that the divide between political beliefs is larger than ever, these actions only exacerbate that problem. The country is witnessing, at our universities, the very hegemony we claim to be struggling against.
I understand there are concerns about what a Trump presidency will look like, and that there may eventually be policies that adversely affect both students and teachers. But let us not be distracted from our daily calling. As an English professor, I believe in English, not politicians. I believe in the power of language and the beauty of literature. I believe in well structured essays that make clear arguments. I believe in uncovering the humanity within the pages of history, how people of all types have overcome hardships, lived virtuously, and inspired others. I believe that the study of English transcends the debates that divide us and offers us opportunities to achieve our better selves.
I have no problem getting out of bed each day, no matter who is in office. In fact, I haven't uttered a word of the election results in any of my courses, and all of them have run smoothly. When something stressful comes up in my life, I look forward to putting a smile on my face and saying, "Good morning everybody, let's dive into some Faulkner/Cather/Douglass/Marquez/Austen today!" Students take their cues from their teachers. If teachers are focused on the task at hand, their students will follow. If teachers are the cause of distraction, their students will also follow. I will continue to do my job teaching reading, writing, logic, literature, communication, and research. And I don't need to think about either of this year's terribly flawed candidates to do so.
We are the adults. Let's get to work.