GenX women in higher ed from around the globe

Archive for the ‘Afshan’s Posts’ Category

The Missing Link in Teaching

In Afshan's Posts on 2012/01/26 at 08:18

Afshan Jafar, writing from New London, Connecticut in the US.

When I was a graduate student and was assigned to teach (and design) a course, the first thing I did was order the textbooks for that particular topic. It seemed to me then, that everything would fall into place once I had accomplished the major task of choosing a textbook and figuring out the readings. In contrast, now, when I am about to design a new course, the specific readings sometimes end up being one of the last things I choose.

I have sat through a few teaching seminars now (as a graduate student and as a young faculty) and I know that a lot of people attend these kinds of seminars to learn how to deal with the “nuts and bolts” of teaching: how many pages of reading to assign, what kind of a system/scale to use for grading, what to include in a syllabus, how much feedback to give on written assignments etc. These questions are, of course, not unimportant and should be addressed as part of teacher training seminars. But what I want to focus on here is one aspect of teacher training that is far less concrete and very often overlooked in teacher training programs: epistemology and how that relates to pedagogy. That is, how does and should your conception of knowledge (and more specifically our disciplinary knowledge) relate to your teaching style and methods.

How can your conception of your disciplinary knowledge (or knowledge more generally) impact how you design a course? Let’s start with knowledge. Is your view of knowledge that it is a concrete set of Truths that must be passed on? Or do you believe knowledge is shaped by perspective and location? Does it exist like “nuggets of gold” – solid, unchanging, and needing safe-guarding?  While most academics have answered these questions about their disciplines at some point, what is often missing is the linking of our abstract conception of knowledge to the very real practice of teaching.   That the two should be in harmony is often ignored by those teaching us how to teach!

Once you make this relationship between epistemology and pedagogy central to your teaching and course design, everything else—the kinds of assignments you use, whether you use a textbook or not, whether you allow revisions, whether you do in-class exams or take-home papers/essays—follows from this relationship. Let’s take assignments as an example. If I am a firm believer that knowledge is often malleable, changing and context dependent, then my methods of assessing my students should reflect that view. Does it seem fair or even logical to test my students with multiple-choice questions if I hold the view above? Does it not make more sense, to assess students’ knowledge in a way that is congruent with my beliefs regarding knowledge? In the case above, it means assigning papers, and written assignments, allowing for students to interpret the information I provide, instead of asking them to regurgitate dates, definitions, or names in the format of a multiple choice exam or True and False with only one correct answer.

Thinking about the relationship between teaching and my own conception of knowledge is what has led me to shun textbooks. The format of a textbook: the bold and italicized definitions, reliance on summaries of original research instead of the actual research, test-banks for teachers for instance, all reinforce a knowledge-as-nuggets-of-gold approach to teaching and learning. If I don’t hold that view as a researcher, why should I hold that view as a teacher?

So instead of turning to textbooks, here are the questions I ask myself before developing a course. For me, the fact that my answers to these questions have to be consistent with my conception of knowledge makes this part much easier than before:

  • What do I want students to take away from this course? And I don’t mean regurgitating our jargon-filled “course objectives” here with all the buzz-words: I mean: What are the central ideas/themes that drive this course. What is the most important thing that I want students to learn from this course?
  • How can I best get these central ideas across? Will it be a lecture? A seminar with student leaders for each section? A class discussion?
  • Given my own conception of knowledge, and what I believe the central themes of this course are, how will I assess the students?

I realize that sometimes when faced with large enrollments, we may not have the luxury to stick to our ideals. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.

This post was also published in Inside Higher Ed .

I Want to Speak to Your Supervisor!

In Afshan's Posts on 2012/01/06 at 05:06

Afshan Jafar, writing from New London, Connecticut in the US.

In my own experience and judging by the experience of those who have many more years in academia than I do, there is one trend that is steadily and maddeningly on the rise: parents calling deans, provosts, and college and university presidents, yes presidents, to plead on their child’s behalf. From what I’ve been told this kind of intervention used to be a rare occurrence, but nowadays it is common enough that it makes academics dread advising/registration periods and the assignment of final grades. I have heard from many faculty members in various types of institutions that the number of calls and emails that administrators receive from parents is appallingly on the rise. They call about final grades (or sometimes they fly in on their personal jet to discuss the matter), they call about extensions on assignments, they call about adding a class late, and they call about their kids not being able to get into the courses they want.

What lies behind this rising trend of parents calling faculty and administrators? There are at least three factors that I can think of. On the one hand, this trend is clearly the manifestation of a consumerist mentality: I’m paying for this, so even though I am a sophomore, I should be able to take the course which is open to juniors and seniors.  Or: I’m paying for this, so this better be good (and “good” really means a good grade here). This consumerist mentality explains the sense of entitlement that we perceive in some of our students and their parents. This is how we end up with a scenario where parents unflinchingly “go right to the top”. So what if the professor told your son or daughter the class was full and he or she wasn’t going to over-enroll? You’ll take it right to the president, darn it! Just the other day you told somebody at Amazon that you wanted to speak to the supervisor and you got what you wanted. And you will not have some professor stand in the way of your child’s success and happiness or more importantly in the way of a convenient Tuesday and Thursday schedule!

But consumerism, as infuriating as it is, gets doubly worse when coupled with another trend: helicopter parents. As most of you surely know, this is a relatively new generation of parents. These are those parents who like to “hover” over their children, watching their every move, preempting every mistake, and perhaps even taking a test or two in place of their children, or ghost-writing a term paper in order to make sure that their children never face failure or rejection. In Scandinavia, they are known as “curling parents”: the phrase conjures up parents bowing down and dutifully sweeping every obstacle from their children’s paths. Some colleges and universities are now calling this breed of parents “lawn-mower” parents as these are parents who vow to mow down any and all obstacles and challenges in their children’s paths.  It is the confluence of these two trends—consumerism and the hovering, curling and mowing school of parenting—that makes parental involvement much more common on our campuses today than it used to be. In a 2009 essay, Nancy Gibbs writes that “Helicopter parents can be found across all income levels, all races and ethnicities, says Patricia Somers of the University of Texas at Austin, who spent more than a year studying the species at the college level. “There are even helicopter grandparents,” she notes, who turn up with their elementary-school grandchildren for college-information sessions aimed at juniors and seniors”(http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1940697-3,00.html).

A third trend that is connected to both consumerism and helicopter parenting is the inability to delay gratification along with the inability to deal with rejection and uncertainty. In the current consumer market, if you can’t find something at one retail store, you can find it at another, or you can buy it on-line and order one-day shipping so it gets to you faster. But this way of consumption is also encouraged by parents in helicopters or those wielding lawn mowers. These parents have made sure that their children are the stars of school plays, that they get into their top choice of colleges whether it’s a suitable match or not, that they change dorm rooms in the first week of school because they don’t like their roommate. So a simple thing like waiting to take a seminar in your junior or senior year seems “unfair”. Why should your child be made to wait for that particular course? So, what do you do when you can’t order over-night shipping on a college seminar?

Speak to the supervisor, of course.

Afshan Jafar is a member of the editorial collective at University of Venus and an Assistant Professor of Sociology at Connecticut College. She can be reached at afshan.jafar@conncoll.edu.

 

This post was also published in Inside Higher Ed

Teach or Perish

In Afshan's Posts on 2011/10/29 at 06:25

Afshan Jafar, writing from New London, Connecticut in the US.

Those of us who have been, or are, in graduate school have come across this mantra: publish or perish. What is important about this phrase is not only the unrelenting pressure it puts on graduate students and early career faculty to publish, but the unspoken lack of emphasis it places on teaching. We go through graduate programs learning how to do research, but even now very few programs actively teach us how to teach or even encourage us to teach. Or so it seems to me, as I plow through piles of applications for a job in my department. I remember being a graduate student when the message to publish was seared into my brain. Where was the parallel message for teaching?

Things have changed. A little. The lack of teaching experience seems like a significant drawback given the current job market. Even in a robust job market, most graduates of research institutions don’t get hired at research-intensive institutions. But given that we are still far from a robust job market, and that a good majority of Ph.D.s are currently taking adjunct, part-time, visiting positions or taking on heavy teaching loads at community colleges or slightly less burdensome loads at small liberal arts colleges, teaching experience is even more important than before.  And by “teaching experience” I don’t mean being a Teaching Assistant for a large lecture, I mean designing and teaching your own courses.

Becoming a TA in graduate school is certainly the easier choice: you don’t have to prepare the syllabus or the assignments, and you don’t have to prepare a lecture/presentation for every class. But being a TA can also be a very frustrating experience – you don’t get to have a say in how to teach the course and you still have to deal with disgruntled students. But perhaps most importantly, it doesn’t amount to much when you apply for a job (unless you are only applying to research intensive institutions). Having been privy to the inner-workings of a couple of job searches (at small liberal arts colleges), I can tell you that evidence of good teaching makes the difference between a top candidate and a candidate who is “not a good fit” for that particular institution. Of course, publishing is still very important. But if your graduate school advisors and mentors have not encouraged you to teach your own courses, take my word for it, go out and find teaching jobs before you apply for a full-time job—your teaching experience and evaluations are going to matter.

This means you need to teach and you need to teach well. So what should graduate students do? For one, start teaching early. Teaching can be quite an unpredictable experience. Although for a good part of my life, I had always heard that I was a “natural” teacher, when I taught my first college-level course at the age of 24(!) I was quite unsure in the classroom. How could I not be? Like most graduate students, I was teaching students who were not that much younger than me. Coupled with graduate students’ relative unfamiliarity with the discipline, it should be expected that teaching will seem, well, a bit “un-natural”. But the good news is that if you’re serious about being a better teacher and reflect consciously upon what works for you and doesn’t work for you in the classroom, you do improve significantly every time that you teach a class.  So if you start teaching early, you will be able to provide evidence for “excellence in teaching” that so many job ads call for.

Second, if your graduate department is not able to accommodate your desire to teach your own courses, explore opportunities at your surrounding institutions. Smaller state schools, community colleges and even small liberal arts colleges need to hire adjuncts often. Let them know that you are available to teach, instead of waiting for them to contact you or your department.

But you’re a graduate student, you say. You are trying to figure out your comprehensive exams, your research, your dissertation, and your next article, do you really have time to develop and teach new courses? Yes. Yes, you do. After all, graduate school is supposed to prepare you for your life after a Ph.D., and unless you take the non-academic route, you’ll have to learn to make time for both teaching and research.

This post was also published in Inside Higher Ed.

Hot For Teacher*

In Afshan's Posts on 2011/10/08 at 20:46

Afshan Jafar, writing from New London, Connecticut in the US.

What makes a teacher hot? Better yet, why is it an important question to consider? Even though I disagree with most of the explanations and the conclusions that Daniel Hamermesh makes in his book Beauty Pays, I do believe that our physical appearance is of great significance. But then again, sociologists have known that for a long time now. A person who appears to be well-dressed, fit, healthy, and attractive is evaluated more positively than a person who is not. But what people often read into our faces and bodies has much less to do with some abstract notions of beauty and much more to do with perceptions of a person’s social class, race/ethnicity, education, and the pre-conceived ideas that go along with each of those categories. To put it bluntly, people who project a certain amount of wealth or status are much more likely to be seen as attractive or beautiful than those who project a lack of wealth or status. People who have more wealth can also employ all the “tools of the trade” to project an image which approximates the ideals of beauty in their cultures: they can spend more money on their hair, their skin, make-up, fitness trainers, vacations (where they develop glowing tans), expensive clothes, perhaps cosmetic surgery, etc. So it is no wonder that Hamermesh finds that attractive professors have higher salaries – they may be attractive precisely because they have higher salaries!

One of the most glaring flaws of Hamermesh’s argument is the idea that student evaluations lead to higher salaries for professors. Some places do have teaching awards for outstanding faculty, but I don’t know of any place which actually increases or decreases your salary based on student evaluations. But let’s put aside the question of money and how that relates to a professor’s attractiveness. Beauty, attractiveness, hotness, they do confer certain advantages on the person embodying them. Hamermesh argues that beautiful professors(or to be more precise those who are considered better looking than other professors and that does not necessarily qualify them as beautiful even according to Hamermesh) get better evaluations than their less attractive colleagues. But what makes a professor hot in student’s eyes? What differences might we find in students’ perceptions of their professors’ hotness depending on the professors’ gender, race, ethnicity or age for instance? Consider a well-liked male professor in his sixties – very likely that he is still getting chili peppers on ratemyprofessors.com. Now consider a well-liked female professor in her sixties – the chances are she’s being called a “nice old lady” in her evaluations and not getting many chili peppers. A young, male African American professor or a young Latina professor on the other hand, may often be perceived as hot by their students. Beauty and hotness are not unbiased or universal standards that we all can agree on. Our perceptions of somebodysattractiveness reflect our cultural attitudes towards various groups of people .

Consider feminists as an example. Its not that feminists are unattractive, but that is how they are often portrayed and imagined by others. Ask your students to be honest and list words that describe feminists from their point of views. Somewhere along the line, “unattractive” or some variation of it will surely make the list. But what is it that makes feminists “unattractive”? For one, the cultural mythology of them being “man-haters” certainly doesn’t help with their public image. Although Hollywood may romanticize relationships between paid assassins trying to kill each other, most “ordinary” people are not attracted to somebody who they think is “out to get them” or out to get half of humanity for that matter. But it is also that feminists deal with volatile and intimate subject matter and our teaching asks students to fundamentally question what they think they know and perhaps how they live. Our subject matter is unsettling; we are “unsafe,” “difficult,” “bitchy”. It is much easier to find somebody else attractive—somebody less “demanding” of their students. Under these circumstances, (even though it may irk us as feminists that students can’t get past our physical appearance), that many of us do get chili peppers from our students, should be seen as a testament to our ability as teachers to transform cultural attitudes! For it is not, contrary to what Hamermesh argues, that students view some professors as hot that leads them to think of them as amazing teachers. It’s because some professors are amazing teachers that often leads students to think of them as hot!

*Song on Van Halen’s album 1984.

This post was also published at Inside Higher Ed.

All The World’s A Stage

In Afshan's Posts on 2011/09/07 at 11:35

Afshan Jafar, writing from New London, Connecticut in the US. 

It’s hunting season! Those of us in the academic world know that August marks the start of the job hunt. So, in a small attempt to ease some of the stress and uncertainty of looking for a job in academia these days, let me introduce the cast of characters you are likely to meet during the tragicomedy that is The Job Hunt.

Setting

 A job interview at your dream college/university or some institution that comes close enough (hell, you just want a job and you really don’t care where it is).

 Cast of Characters

The Rock Star: This, as the name implies, is somebody who is well known in their field. But it also includes those who think they are rock stars but in reality fall short of being one. Regardless, they have the egos of rock stars and thus must be dealt with gingerly. If you really are in the presence of a rock star, or someone whose work you’ve admired or used in your own research, then come clean. Be humble, be honest. If you are in the presence of a person who simply thinks that he or she is a rock star, you have nothing to worry about. He or she will do all the talking (mostly about how great they are, how busy they are, and how important they are), so try to sit still and nod your head. This is your moment of zen. Check out for a few minutes, recuperate, think happy thoughts. By the time you’re done, The Rock Star will be winding down. The only time Rock Stars become difficult is if you get the Rock Star-Intimidator combination (see below for The Intimidator).

The Intimidator: I can almost guarantee that you will come across this character no matter where you are interviewing. This is the person who alternates between looking bored and wanting to jump out of their chair and rolling their eyes during your job talk. They always have a question for you which attempts to paint your research as insignificant or boring. The Intimidator is tricky to deal with for they can really make your blood pressure rise fast. But don’t take the bait. Chances are that most people in the room dread the moment when The Intimidator asks a question and at that moment they sympathize with you. The trick is to answer The Intimidator calmly and confidently. If you handle The Intimidator without getting flustered or angry, you will win over many friends.

The Friend: Every now and then, you meet a person at a job interview with whom you immediately click. This is The Friend. Perhaps they remind you of someone from graduate school or someone in your family. They are funny, easy-going, and very easy to talk to. But that can be dangerous. The Friend is so easy to talk to you may find yourself revealing things that you had not planned to. Still, The Friend allows you to show your more personable side—you know, the funny and charming side of you that is being stifled under that suit you bought for the job interview.

The Border Patrol: If your work is cutting-edge, inter-disciplinary, or sometimes even simply feminist, you will surely tangle with The Border Patrol. The Border Patrol is fond of asking such questions as “So, what is Sociological (input whatever department you’ve applied to) about your research?” or “Why is this Sociology (or X) and not International Relations (or Y)? The Border Patrol likes to defend disciplinary boundaries and the “good, old-fashioned way” of doing things. Your response should point out the changing nature of the discipline (if it is indeed changing), the advantages of interdisciplinary research and its effectiveness in the classroom, but also highlight those aspects of your research that are solidly embedded in that particular discipline.

The Historian: Every department has The Historian. This person has been at the institution for a long time and served in various capacities over the years. The Historian has the ability and willingness to answer any and all questions with ten minute lessons on how and why that particular thing you asked about came to be at the college. The Historian also likes to say things like: “We have always done so and so at this school and that’s because . . .”as if that somehow precludes thinking about change now. But, let The Historian talk. This is another chance for you to recuperate in between meetings.

There are other characters as well: The Fan, The Gossip, The Weeper, The Back-stabber. But I’ll save those for another post.


Come Out, Come Out, Whoever You Are

In Afshan's Posts on 2011/07/26 at 23:01

Dear Anonymous,

I’ve been meaning to write to you for a while, but every time I think that I should respond to one of your comments or posts, I just can’t muster enough energy to do it. I understand that you come in different ages, genders, ethnicities, races, nationalities etc. Sometimes you present yourself as a professor, at other times you are an administrator or staff member, sometimes you get brave enough to give yourself initials or even an untraceable first name, and at others you are just “anonymous”. But the fact that you are so many different people isn’t why even the thought of trying to reason with you is pointless. It’s something else entirely.

Anonymous, I understand that there is a good reason sometimes to hide our identities. We fear retribution from our workplaces or colleagues, we don’t want to reveal too much about the people who are close to us, we don’t want to reveal too much about our students, workplaces etc. There was a good reason why women writers in the past wrote anonymously or under male pseudonyms. It allowed them a venue for self-expression that was closed off to them under the norms of their societies. As academics we are used to blind reviews of our work (but in academic publishing, editors, for instance, know the identities of reviewers, and some journals reveal the identities upon the publication of the piece under review). It’s not anonymity that I have an issue with. But when you make anonymity your modus operandi – whether you’re posting comments on other people’s blogs or maintaining an anonymous blog of your own—it brings out certain very undesirable characteristics in you. What may have started out as a necessary protection of your identity, has led to an outright abandonment of self-reflection and mindfulness.

Allow me to make a comparison, which may not make sense to you, but since I know nothing about you, I will proceed anyway. Did you ever see Jim Carrey in “The Mask”? Briefly: Carrey’s character, who is very gentle, subdued, deferential, and an all around nice guy, comes upon a mask. Once he puts it on, the mask allows him to let his suppressed, inner-most, cartoonishly romantic, super-hero type personality, take over. The problem of course is that this mask allows him to behave in ways that he would otherwise not deem proper and that are even downright criminal. Eventually Carrey’s character realizes that he’s better off without the mask, as liberating as it may have been to wear it.

I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this. Why blog anonymously all the time? Why post comments on other people’s blogs that you won’t acknowledge as your own? Like I said, I realize the importance and downright necessity of anonymity, sometimes. I know that it’s dangerous to expose yourself through your writings to the entire world. But here at UVenus, we have untenured, tenure-track, full-time, part-time, faculty, staff, graduate students, all willing to take that risk; even though we have ourqualms. With a click of a button you can read our profiles, go to our home institutions, read our research, look us up on Facebook or even read student comments about our teaching! But we expose ourselves to the commentary out there and even become topics for other people to blog about, because we believe that what we have to say is worthwhile. We believe that what we are doing is worth putting our full names to. And we believe that if it came down to it, we can defend our views, our statements, and our commentary. We are not ashamed of what we write. You protect your identity and keep your name a secret because you cannot publicly stand by what you write. And that is why, Anonymous, I decide not to engage you in conversation, even though you momentarily catch my attention.

Your anonymity probably makes you feel powerful—a sense of devilish pleasure and freedom as you write a nasty comment or blog and sit back, narcissistically enjoying each sting, each jab, each word dripping with sarcasm and vitriol. But, you see, the very invisibility that gives you a sense of power now is going to be your eventual downfall. How long can you wear the cloak of invisibility and still wake up and see the person that you used to be?

Until you come out,

Afshan

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 75 other followers