Photo courtesy of Unsplash.
As I have been watching fourth-year students ruminate on their academic experiences during our third All-College Symposium, thinking about stepping into a new academic world come a spring semester abroad, and delving into the brown-brick, old-book world of The Chair with Sandra Oh, I’ve been reflecting on pedagogy and academic spaces. If asked about my favorite classes, conversations, and learning environments with which I have interacted at Connecticut College, the common thread that runs through is how deeply each space has challenged me to broaden my horizon and has pushed me intellectually, personally, and emotionally. My favorite class discussions have been informal and organic, but provide the structure to propel me further into critical analysis. This has never come without a professor who doesn’t invest their time and effort into curating an inclusive and comfortable classroom, which should be the standard of what we expect from each other and from ourselves. Tuition is too expensive and student debt too pervasive for a lackluster academic experience. A foundational curriculum is nothing without a learning environment that provides the tools to navigate it comfortably.
There is no better energy than a classroom that becomes electric; students and professors are pushed and pulled by ideas that clash and exciting perspectives, all while inviting us to see the multiplicity behind what we study. My favorite professors have answered my questions by posing another question, cold-called on students to externalize our thoughts, and have patiently pulled something coherent out of us. It sounds frightening, but actually creates a learning environment that gives us room to see our ideas in their wholeness and process them together towards a shared understanding. I owe it to English professors such as Hubert Cook and Julie Rivkin who have, whether it be by their own volition or a deliberate effort to do their students justice, made their classrooms uplifting and validating. They’ve met us where we are as students while also urging us to explore further and dig deeper into intellectual selves. When we have examined a piece of writing, we do so mindfully, aware of complexities and contradictions made visible to us because every student feels confident in the power behind their voice. Crucial to an inclusive learning space is also awareness that engagement takes on myriad forms; as do forms of understanding; as does teaching.
It matters to ask why students may not feel engaged in a class, actively seeking out criticism. It matters that students find comfort in letting ourselves think out loud and be flawed in our assumptions, because a classroom can be a tool of discovery. It matters to take a moment to ask students where they are emotionally before class. It matters that professors frame our learning against prescient political topics and different forms of media to supplement what otherwise might be dense or antiquated theoretical works. Modeling inclusive language matters. Allowing for flexibility in how students respond to critical works that honor the range of styles of learning, matters.
Our emotional selves are not detached from our academic selves, but I continue to find that classrooms treat them as separate entities. Holistic academic spaces also provide room for us to step down from our ivy towers and contextualize our learning within our larger political and cultural landscape. We are all better off when we take the time to acknowledge the socio-cultural milieu that sets us apart.
It matters how we foster an environment where every single student feels comfortable to facilitate critical dialogue, embrace what we don’t know, and be given the space to self-reflect on privilege and positionality. It is a truth widely-acknowledged that the College has vast room for improvement in how it approaches conversations on equity and inclusion in particular, while actively making space for these conversations to occur. The question becomes even more prescient when we factor in the sluggishness of our pandemic-stricken cognition. And, student grievances at our recent open forum on voyeurism have also laid bare the need for professors to better account for mental and emotional well-being. Ultimately, our curiosity towards what we are being taught is evidenced by our active participation and level of engagement, and is largely contingent on the dynamic of the space in which information is being presented and ideas are exchanged. Soon, we might be toasting to Judith Butler in a class on American women writers and talking openly about lived experiences.
