Mike the writing teacher might respond to Mike the blogger’s post yesterday in the following fashion:
“Dear Mike:
Your first paragraph really got my attention, with the way your small alliterations called attention to the connection between the cause (your classes having gone well) and the effect (your good mood), and the ‘oh’ of clear delight. The problem is, the rest of the entry doesn’t deliver on the promise of that paragraph. You immediately switch gears by going into a detailing of bad days, including a throwaway military reference, and then for no apparent reason throw some abuse at campus IT workers before returning briefly to your ostensible topic: your good teaching day. However, you bring it up again only to confuse us by just as quickly dropping the subject in favor of the focus of the post’s second half: questions of ethical student representation. In raising these questions, you in no way acknowledge the obvious and strong connections to your earlier post, ‘What’s in a Flame?’, which was prompted by remarkably similar questions about how and where instructors talk about students.
Maintaining a solid focus — either the ‘good day’ narrative or the ethics of representation questions — should help you revise this into something that readers may be able to productively engage with. It’ll take some work, though.”
And Mike the writing teacher would be right. It was just such a good day that I couldn’t not tell you about it. My questions are still there, though. From that CCC statement I linked and from what I’ve said here, what’s your sense of how much I can responsibly write about my classroom? Obviously, I wouldn’t ever use student names, not even just first names — but does even talking about a student without using names (e.g., “I have one student who’s ten months out of Moscow and has immense difficulties with English, but man! she’s well-read and has some fantastic ideas; one of her first drafts referenced Chagall and Bulgakov in this extended metaphor that worked with some seriously apocalyptic imagery to make a political statement about being a Jew in Russia”) violate my ethical obligations as a teacher and researcher? I think so. So how much can I say, if anything? And is this really just the question Liz was asking but in a different skin?
I don’t know, Mike. Where’s the violation in that comment? If “immense difficulties” were changed to “some difficulties” would it be more palatable? The comment celebrates the student’s abilities. In what sense would publishing it violate her?
I think “Do no harm” is what I need to go by (yes, what is harmful is open to interpretation). I see no harm in discussing a fine paper I’ve received in general terms (I wouldn’t post a student’s work without permission). I do see harm in expressing displeasure or frustration with a student or class (unless it has already been aired with them) or, obviously, in revealing personal details about a particular student. But I might post about a particular class session I felt didn’t work and ask for fellow bloggers’ advice. I don’t believe students should be cut off from the workings of our pedagogy; they shouldn’t be led to believe this is magic.
Case in point. When I was in grad school, a peer and I got into an argument about gendered approaches to teaching, particularly as they concerned honesty with students. He liked to play mind games with students, and he believed my way of interacting with students–total honesty–was absurd. We decided to visit each other’s classes. I basically just observed his, but when he came to mine, we ended up telling my students about the differences in teaching style between us. It turned into a very lively and interesting discussion with the students deciding there clearly was a gender issue involved. What amazed me was how engaged they were. They seemed fascinated with the subject of teaching–how we do it, what we are trying to achieve.
And I think they were appreciative that we respected them enough to have the conversation with them.
No, I don’t think it is the same question Liz was asking. After all, aren’t you working out the problem right here, for all, even students, to see? That’s quite different, I think.