Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind.
It seems to me that there are at least a couple of views of how higher education should be structured. One is ivory tower and elitist, and one is democratic and inclusive. There may even be that rare breed of person who values aspects of both.Those who are of the first mind believe that the bar should be set high, so high that only the “best” – the most intelligent, the best prepared – can succeed. They believe higher education is not for everyone. They believe it is only a select few who can succeed; that these few are the only ones worthy to eventually join their own selective and exclusive group. They believe that not only the reputation of their institution, but their own reputation, must be guarded and protected in this way. They are sometimes part of a group that says, “Either you have it, or you don’t. End of story.” They are sometimes part of a group that confuses intelligence and background/privilege. When they are at an institution of higher learning where the students don’t “measure up” to the institution from which they came, they are angry and frustrated, and they sometimes have such attrition rates that they have to face the situation. And they do. In whatever way they can.
One of the saddest aspects of academia is the confusion of intelligence with background and privilege, for it does not give those who might have the desire, the motivation, the mind, a chance. These people have to fight harder to succeed, and they are not necessarily the easy ones to teach. Those who are prepared, who have come from the college preparatory schools, and, in the case of language learners/speakers, those who have grown up with the second language and culture – those students, who have all the above attributes, are easy to teach. They are more docile, more trained in the etiquette of academia, and skilled in its labyrinthine ways. And it is easy to pretend that one is a great teacher, because the students are great learners.
It is almost as if some people do not know how to teach/facilitate learning in any but those who already know how to learn. I compare those people to virtuoso pianists who can play the most exquisite music. That ability and skill, however, do not necessarily transfer into excellent teaching/facilitation of learning. Some academics are exquisite masters of the word. They are great masters of content. They believe by virtue of mastery of word and content, one is a great teacher. OR others assume that "teachers are born, not made." I wholeheartedly disagree with both propositions.
I should not be so hard on these academics, for like me they have been influenced by their background, education, and upbringing. And yet, when I see students not given a chance, and not given a helping hand up to the next rung of the ladder, not encouraged to try, not believed in for their potential, sloughed off like a pair of dirty, old shoes – when I see people not willing to at least try to work with them, when students are blamed for their “stupidity,” “arrogant behavior,” or “moronic mentality,” I am saddened by the waste, and am reminded that “a mind is a terrible thing to waste.”
Such attitudes have permeated my experiences in education for almost fifty years, and I am reminded that teachers, instructors, and professors often love to complain about students. It’s the academic pastime. And once again, I am reminded of Russell Crowe in A Beautiful Mind, when he treated those students (actually even those considered the "best and the brightest!") with disdain. I just looked at the trailer of the movie on Youtube and was impressed with what he later said: "Perhaps it is good to have a beautiful mind. But an even greater gift is to discover a beautiful heart."
And what if, just what if, although we are not consciously being racist or "classist," those whom we keep out are the great-great-grandchildren of slaves, the great-great-grandchildren of victims of the Texas Rangers, the great-great-grandchildren of poor migrant workers -- "black," "brown," or "white?" (Actually, we are various hues of beige, brown, and black. But that's another tangent for another day.)
There are others of us who – Anathema! Blasphemy! – believe that we have an obligation to the students whom we have let in to our institutions. That we have an obligation to begin at the level they are at, and help them step up to the next rung of the ladder, give them the tools to reach beyond their current level of skill and understanding, to help them become excited about the field we live in. The belief that eventually they too can reach that high bar, even if it takes a little longer, even if the route is more circuitous, even if there are more boulders in the road. On our part it takes more work, it takes more willingness for risk, it takes more humility. It takes not being worried about what people will think – about reputation. It takes believing in the goal – to educate those who were not privileged to be so in the past. It means having your eye on the current ball, not on the ball that glitters somewhere off in reputation land. And … perhaps … it means being different.
And I know those others will counter what I have said: “They won’t take advantage of it. They still will not succeed. Some really won’t be able to ‘do it’.” To which I say, those are statements that keep one’s eye off the ball. Maybe in some cases all of that will be true. But what about those whom you’ve inspired? What about those you’ve given confidence to? What about those who do have the potential, the desire, and the time? Or they will say, “It will hold back those who are ahead.” To that I say, I believe there are teaching methods that will allow for both, even for the one to help the other learn and thereby learn even better him/herself.
And what about our ideals, our subject matter? Why don’t we want to inspire others to find the pleasure in exploring the fields we get such pleasure in exploring? Why don’t we have the attitude, “The more who are inspired by ideas, the better”? There is little that is more satisfying than seeing a spark of interest burst into flame.
But perhaps some people just don’t like to teach, or perhaps they have not experienced the pleasure, yes the "high," that comes from a class hour well spent. Perhaps they are more the introspective kind, the kind that like to read and think on their own, alone, without the bother of other people. But they have to teach, because that is part of the job. Or maybe, just perhaps there are a few who don’t even care that much for any of it, but it was an easy gig to get into, because they had all the background, or it was easy for them to make the grade, and what they really like is the prestige that they can garner for themselves within a group of exclusivity. If the group becomes all-inclusive, then how can they be set apart as someone special? It reminds me of the old high school clique, where only the cool students got a seat at the table. Is that too harsh a judgment?
You might be thinking by now, wow, what an emotional stake I have in this issue. Yes, it is true. … Why? I was one of those in whom people did not believe – everywhere I went, whether it was in retailing, whether it was in academia. But I had persistence, and I proved I could learn. And I succeeded. And that – that is a story for another day.
Good morning, and talk to you later.
