The Value of Admitting What We Dont Know By Susan J. Behrens, August 4, The Chronicle of Higher Ed. Applying for a fellowship recently, I was asked to respond to one of the following two prompts: A. Describe the most significant thing about teaching that you have learned. B. Describe your most memorable teaching moment. I chose A, but quickly realized that the two are difficult to separate. For me they both involve a student named Carla. Carla was an English major taking a senior-level sociolinguistics course with me to fulfill a general-education requirement. I was covering the linguistic argument that nonstandard language forms are not substandard. I’d felt resistance from her all term, yet she was doing well on exams and papers. One day in class, I proposed a scenario in which we all wake up one day and find that the academy accepts both nonstandard and standard English dialects equally. Carla got very agitated and countered with, It’s easy for you to say! You’ve already mastered the right type of English. I could have reflexively repeated the linguistic tenet that all dialects are equally communicative, but there was so much emotion in Carla’s voice that I could do nothing but stop and consider. After a few moments (quiet in the classroom is like radio silence), I told Carla that she made a very good point and that I had to digest it. All dialects are equal linguistically, in that they are regular, rule-governed, and just as effective at communicating as is standard English. They are not, however, all equal socially. Coming from a position of privilege, it was indeed easy for me to toss off such a scenario of equal acceptance. Carla reminded me of the other side of the argument, that the field of linguistics was not going to change the privileging of the standard, and that those who choose to fight that fight without standard English as the medium, or at least as backup, are at risk, educationally and economically. That summer, Carla still in my head, I delved into the linguistics literature and found a book by Deborah Cameron called Verbal Hygiene. Cameron argues that linguists like me are disingenuous when we hold to the label of descriptivist, believing ourselves to be objective when it comes to how language is used. In fact, says Cameron, we are just as biased about language issues, and so under the thrall of our teachers’ and discipline’s mantras that we cannot acknowledge our own blind spots. We are prescribing, too. We prescribe rights for nonstandard dialects; for acceptance of variation in accent, grammar, and narrative style; for gender-neutral language, etc. Carla did not fully realize the lesson she set in motion, and I didn’t fully learn it until after she graduated. She led me to reflect, to Cameron’s work, and to start new research into the misalignment of assumptions between students and educators. I realized that I could (and even should) say let me think about that to a student’s question when I am not sure. And that such an answer is the start, not the end, of an exploration. And I learned to trust my belief that the classroom is for sharing of responsibility and for making public the part of the educator that continues to learn. Few professors are comfortable going public when they encounter gaps in their knowledge. After all, we are the professors! However, the realization for me went further, beyond knowing and acknowledging that I might need to look up some fact or another to answer a student’s question. More important are the moments when students bring their own perspective to material I know so well that I cannot see it from any other angle. Last year I received an email from Carla. I hadn’t had any contact with her since she graduated, but I frequently thought about finding her on Facebook or LinkedIn. Carla had read about me in the alumni magazine; a new book of mine had just been published. Here is the email: Dear Prof. Behrens: I doubt you remember me, I was in just one of your classes, but it completely changed my life. It’s so rarely that you can remember one aha! moment that totally changed you, but I can still remember when you finally convinced me that it was important to have a descriptive rather than prescriptive view of language. Suddenly, I was forced to examine so many prejudices and preconceived notions. It was that moment of understanding that sparked my passion for English as a living, evolving language. Now, as a TESOL teacher, I work every day to make sure that my students appreciate that the rules we study aren’t the right English, and that there’s a right English for the right situation. I tell them what their home languages have contributed to ours, and about the beauty of nonstandard English. So when I saw the announcement about your book, I thought I should write and tell you what an impact your class had on me. I think teachers often have no idea how far their influence reaches—yours reaches each of my students every day! Now it’s my turn to write to Carla, which I am starting with this essay. I can even use some of the same phrases, express the same gratitude for her lesson to me. And ultimately, what is that lesson? Be more open and, yes, respond. Susan J. Behrens is a professor of communication sciences and disorders at Marymount Manhattan College. She is the author of Understanding Language Use in the Classroom: A Linguistic Guide for College Educators (2014, Multilingual Matters).chronicle/article/The-Value-of-Admitting-What-We/147983/?cid=at&utm_source=at&utm_medium=en
Posted on: Thu, 07 Aug 2014 14:28:59 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015