[Beverly’s comments in brackets and blue]

Teachers, like all humans, have an agenda. More often than not, it is based in noble intention, but it is there nonetheless. (And of course teachers have literal agendas, in the form of lesson plans). Studying the Participatory Approach heightened my awareness the idea of “checking your agenda at the door.” It is a difficult task with any teaching, but particularly for a method that is so political and potentially heated. Frankly, I was a little surprised that the reading explicitly expresses the need to keep one’s biases separate from the classroom discussion.

In theory I think it’s essential to wear a teaching “mask” to blur the edges of personal identity, but as Parker Palmer says, “you teach who you are.” I have never known — and still don’t — where the line is between being oneself (albeit the professional version) and being too distant and impersonal. Surely it is acceptable to express one’s opinion and to reveal one’s personality under certain circumstances. I think of Beverly’s teaching Afrikaans and our discussion afterward about her experience with and thoughts about the language. What she told me privately, teacher to student, was entirely appropriate. In fact, I would have considered it appropriate (and relevant) for her to discuss her conflicted feelings in our classroom setting, while she may have felt legitimately hesitant to do so. In either case, that line in the sand was near. Had this situation been in South Africa, as a teacher I may well have opted for silence on the matter.

Reading about and experiencing the Participatory Approach — with its instruction to keep one’s beliefs out of the discussion — kept bringing this question to the fore: when is it appropriate to reveal subjective beliefs or other personal characteristics, and when not? If I were Bev, would I have been wrong to clarify my position in the SIT classroom? I don’t know.

[I think there is a difference between voicing one’s opinion or stance on an issue, which I think is fine, when asked for or needed; and giving answers to students’ questions re course content, when they could find those answers themselves.  The latter is a way of adhering to the  SW principle of ‘subordinating teaching to learning’ while the former is expressing something personal which the student could not be expected to guess at. ]

Certain situations have clearer boundaries. If I were in an Asian country where the teacher is traditionally seen as an authority figure, or if I were teaching young children, I would most likely keep my belief systems under wraps. But if I were in a working-class adult school in Mexico where unemployment and/or worker conditions are concerns, am I crossing into dangerous terrain to introduce a topic that addresses these matters? To show empathy? How can I explore such a subject from a truly neutral perspective? Would trying to do so violate my belief in speaking (moderated) truth? Would students perceive it as my thinking I’m “above all that” or disinterested?

[I think you have the answer to this.]

If the revelation of one’s belief system lies on a spectrum from silent and objective to passionately opinionated, I imagine each teacher needs to find one’s place between the poles. While I don’t think strong advocacy on the part of the teacher is appropriate, neither do I believe that it is desirable to try to appear free of opinion. My natural tendency is to be reserved and private. But my level of compassion is high and I often give voice to those thoughts and observations (unless I know that it breaks social norms to do so).

How does the Participatory Approach reconcile what seems contradictory to me: the teacher’s need to inspire activism — in the role of co-learner or “midwife” more than teacher — and still “rise above” the emotional dialog? I understand how one can maintain a somewhat objective leadership role — guiding without ranting — but I don’t see how one works from a truly neutral perspective. I acknowledge the critical importance of a teacher’s staying off a soapbox or pushing one’s own views. Such misuses of this approach seem an inherent danger of the method, in careless practice.

That raises yet another question: What is a political statement? If I advocate for equality or peace, perhaps as part of norm-setting in the classroom, isn’t that also political and personal?

These are not questions to which I’m seeking outside answers. They are ones that I need to weigh and ponder as I find my own place in teaching. While learning about the Participatory Approach has sparked them, they apply to teaching using any approach.

I’d like to add a few more observations about the Participatory Approach: I keep hoping that we’ll come to a philosophy that makes me sigh contentedly and say, “Ah, this is the one.” I know that’s neither a possible nor a desirable outcome. Yet part of me secretly wants The One True Answer. In truth, if I had The Answer, I would be bored silly with teaching within months.

I struggled, along with some other students, to understand how one can base an ESL curriculum on the Participatory Approach. But I’ve decide it’s not important to try to resolve that, and instead consider ways to adapt the approach — or just parts of it — to my teaching. My reservations about the teacher’s role in classroom activism aside, I’m excited about the idea of building lesson plans around student-generated content. That feels natural to me, since I’ve always been drawn to teaching based on students’ own stories. While the activism component is, I realize, at the heart of the approach, I don’t know yet if I will experiment with that — at least yet. I may wait until I find my teacher’s “voice” and identity before moving into such difficult (but rewarding) terrain.

I realized that there is an art to developing a successful code. In my small group, one student had a dialog that was so specific that we had to struggle to find ways to extend it into something broader that could give birth to an action. Conversely, the other student, following the instruction to present an unbiased code, brought one so neutral that we barely could find generalizable meaning in it at all. In the end, we imposed our will on it, endowing it with all kinds of symbolism that wasn’t there. Seeing this phenomenon in a hypothetical situation made me realize that, in actual practice, a teacher needs to guide the discussion dextrously so that people don’t accidentally read “wrong” meaning into — that is, misinterpret —a scenario, basing consequent action on misguided assumptions.

[Yes, this is an important point.]

[Ginna, what struck me reading this paper was the sound reasoning you demonstrate and your openness exploring aspects that are both difficult and demanding. This is a quality to nurture. By going deeper you have got more out of this, gained a richer understanding that transcends the approach itself and infuses your thinking about teaching and learning in general. As you point out, we can only teach ‘who we are’, and therefore we do what is comfortable for us and what reflects our beliefs and values. The fact that you look for what it is that makes you  ‘you’ and go beyond potential negatives and are willing to keep an open mind, is a great asset. Hold on to it and enjoy the journey!]