Our TEP classes are very egocentric. Up until this last set of readings, the focus of the material has been on us (How should I teach this? What should I choose to teach? Am I being honest?) and not on who we will be teaching. The thread which runs through all of these readings is that there is more than just a teacher involved in a learning episode. Equally as important as recognizing the other (sometimes a single student, at other times a group of students or the entire class) is to delve into the motivation of both the other and myself. Students will come into our classroom with their own agendas and methods of accomplishing them, just as I will. This past set of readings has encouraged me to examine what their agendas and methods might be as well as how I will respond to them.
"Rousing Schools to Life" and "The Art of Questioning" both address the idea of how classroom discourse is conducted. What are the roles of the teacher and the student? How does the nature of our questioning affect a student's understanding of what a dialogue is? Tharp and Gallimore approach the teaching/learning episode with the paradoxical term: instructional conversation (24). Teachers need to have an idea of where they want to lead their students with the questions they pose, but at the same time they must treat the students as equals in a joint quest for meaning. A failure to treat students with respect and equality sends an implicit message to students that they do not have anything novel or interesting to add to a conversation of inquiry. An inherent agenda resides in a teacher's line of questioning, and students usually can discern what that agenda is: He's checking to see if I did my homework; He doesn't really want to know what I think, he just wants me to confirm what he has said; or He genuinely wants to know my opinion. In turn, the inherent agenda that gets conveyed to students through questioning may help mold the students' own agendas each subsequent time they enter the classroom.
Dennie Wolf examines not only the nature of the questions asked, but the structure from which they flow. For instance, she encourages teachers to consider if they establish a classroom tone where they are the only ones allowed to question or if they encourage students to converse among each other. She also addresses the idea that questions can simply die if they are not part of a larger structure which she terms "arcs of questions"(2). Teachers need to use students' responses to formulate follow-up questions. If student responses are not employed, why was the question being asked in the first place? The idea of an agenda is wrapped up in these different modes of questioning because a teacher can achieve her agenda by the way in which she questions. She can set up a classroom full of student interest and participation if her questions are rooted in respect and genuine inquiry or she can silence a classroom by making herself the sole arbiter of truth and knowledge through her questions.
During my second observation, I saw a teacher employ questions effectively to achieve her agenda. She wanted her class to pay attention to current events, so each day she had one person assigned to report three news items he found worthy of discussion. Sometimes she would raise questions about how the specific news item might be related to another news items, but more often, another student would have a question of the reporter and that question would lead to a conversation amongst the students about the news article. She facilitated questions by giving her eighth grade class the freedom to choose their own topics of conversation and the freedom to determine which questions were worth pursuing. The classroom felt open and unstifled.
The Delpit article addresses agendas more from an institutional perspective than from a one-on-one basis. She asserts that (while their goals may be worthy and admirable) most progressive, ethnic-sensitive schools are denying minorities access to "codes of power." The unintentional byproduct of their agenda ("To provide schooling for everyone's children that reflects liberal, middle-class values and aspirations") is to perpetuate the inequalities of the status quo (285). Parents will have an agenda for their children, just as a school system, each teacher, and the children themselves will. Delpit argues that the parents' agendas and concerns are too often brushed aside by professional educators. The community in which a school is situated necessarily has to contribute to the process of education. If it does not contribute or its' ideas are not solicited, then the school will be that much weaker for the lack of input.
John Gatto also examines agendas from an institutional perspective. He utilizes irony to highlight the shortcomings of school as an institution. He argues that schools are not set up to educate, but rather to force conformity from the students. The conformity can range from firming up the already established class system to using bells to destroy interest in a subject or topic. The institutional agenda is to normalize students as to what is expected of them: show up, don't ask too many questions, be quiet, do your work-but don't be too interested in it, and move on when the day or year is over. Gatto hits the target accurately, judging from the two high schools I observed. In both of them, there truly was the sense that they were built as a holding pen for students rather than a school to facilitate inquiry and learning. The junior high school I observed did not have bells and the students were taught in block situations. Both of these factors made the student/teacher relationships more personal and productive than the high schools I observed.
Sometimes the school and the teacher create an atmosphere open to learning, but the student is not motivated to attempt to learn. Kohl addresses this situation in his article. He rightly asserts that sometimes teachers need to look beyond the in-class attitude and performance of a student to see what is really motivating him or her. The student may be actively not learning so as to preserve his culture or heritage or out of a fear of assimilation. John G. Nicholls also proposes that active non-learning may be a signal of withdrawal from an ego-involved task. By this, Nicholls is saying that a student might choose not to participate if he senses that his participation will allow him to be competitively judged against the performance of others. The reason these two articles are yoked together in my mind is that they both involve the idea of students acting a particular way based on their individual agendas. If I, as a teacher, can learn to ask the pertinent questions behind a student's behavior, I will be more likely to know how to structure my agenda so that it can coexist with a student's agenda.
Nicholls begins his "Conceptions of Ability" article with the memorable story of a professor who achieved his goal of losing quickly at poker so that he would have more time for himself. At first, it appeared to the young mathematician that the professor had not achieved anything in losing. Later, the mathematician realized that the professor might have had a different agenda than winning when he sat down to play. The hidden agendas of students will have a great effect on the tone of a classroom. Nicholls believes that conceptions of effort and ability have a very serious effect on classroom behavior as students reach their pre-teen years. Students are less apt to exert themselves when they view effort as a sign of lacking ability. I do not believe that this phenomenon is unique to students, I think it runs throughout American society. Our culture contends that it is much better to achieve goals through natural ability than through effort and determination. As a society, we value effortless winners much more than hard-working losers. The implication of this idea is that teachers will be far more likely to have a productive class if they focus students on achieving goals rather than competing against each other.
If there are agendas involved in working, learning, not learning, questioning, and institutional structure, then there are certainly agendas at work in teacher feedback and assessment. Just as Dennie Wolf asks the teacher to consider the underlying reasons for asking questions, Nancy Sommers asks the teacher to consider her inherent agenda in assessment. She writes that broad, generic comments written in response to a specific text are not helpful to students and serve to make the student guess what the teacher means or desires. Consequently, the agenda conveyed to the student is that he needs to write to please his teacher, not for himself. When the comments are specifically rooted in the student's writing, the teacher is demonstrating an attentiveness to the student's writing. She is not just issuing vague directives like "needs more clarity" or "watch your grammar" that could apply to anyone's paper, she is engaging the student in a conversation about his writing and his ideas. This brings up another point in the Sommers article: teachers often respond to mechanical errors and then get frustrated with students for not developing a thoughtful content. When teachers do this, they are sending a message that they are not interested in the thoughtful aspects of writing, only in the punitive aspects of mechanics. As a teacher, I will need to examine closely what I am trying to achieve when I comment on my students' work. By clarifying my own agenda within an act of assessment, I am more likely to make the assessment helpful for both me and the student. The assessment can become a valuable part of the learning process, rather than the dead-end of a final grade.
While Sommers examines the agendas involved in a student/teacher assessment episode, Wolf scrutinizes the implicit agenda of institutional assessment. She rightly claims that American schools assess students with IQ tests, standardized multiple-choice tests, and other noninteractive forms of measurement. She explains that school systems do this to level the playing field for all students, but that "the unintended lesson is that it is jump-start ability, rather than past engagement and prior study that is considered worth examining"(13). If we are to implement the changes Sommers recommends on a personal level, then we must necessarily change our forms of assessment at an institutional level. Otherwise, students will pay no attention to the student/teacher dialogue, and will simply want to know if they will "need to know this for the test." Wolf advocates opening up self-assessment and reflection to all students, not just to the "gifted" students or the older students. She provides an example of how this system might work with her account of the student who journaled his reactions to the Primo Levy piece.
The problem with trying to individualize assessment is that it is more work for an educational system than to subject all students to the "one, true measurement of their abilities-" a standardized test. Children do not learn in a cookie-cutter mold, why should they be assessed in such a manner? Gatto's idea of institutional indifference closely corresponds to the problems of standardized assessment. School systems employ standardized tests not because of their accuracy, but because of their easiness. It is far simpler to assign a numerical score to a student than it is to provide meaningful feedback. Wolf suggests that assessment should be a part of the learning process, not the end result. In this regard, her ideas are very similar to Sommers'.
The idea of agendas or motives relates to my earlier themes of structure and honesty because it provides the base from which the other two may flower. Structuring curriculum or knowledge will be a moot effort if the teaching of them falls on deaf ears. Similarly, I will need to examine what extrinsic agendas are being applied to me before I consider structure. If my school is intent on producing good test-takers, then I will need to confront that issue before I begin teaching. To not do so, would be to lead the students down a path of inconsistency. I must ensure that my methods and goals are consistent with the institutional expectations of my students. Earlier, I acknowledged the need to be true to my discipline in my methodology. In a similar fashion, I need to be honest with my students in my methodology: I need to examine how I use questions, assessments, and assignments. There would be little point in trying to exhibit disciplinary honesty if I use the tools of teaching in a dishonest manner.