My PhD in White Puffy Dresses and Bouquet Arrangements

I wonder whether any of my readers have ever suffered from split-academic/bride personality disorder, or whether this brand of crazy is 100% Gabi? It’s all-encompassing doing a PhD and it’s all-encompassing planning a wedding, and now that I’m doing the two at the same time, it’s making me a little loopy.

I lie in bed at night and my brain jumps between discourse and banquet courses, Bhaskar and bridesmaids, thesis proposals and proposing toasts, methodological maps and seating plans,  registries and realism. I picture crazy connections being made between the bride and student sides of my brain, thoughts zipping back and forth as my stream of consciousness whips me on a journey from my booth in the library to the beflowered Chuppah and back again. 

Perhaps I should mix it up a bit: instead of a speech thanking my new husband on the big night, I’ll take the opportunity to thank Joseph A. Maxwell for writing his very clear and concise book about critical realism. I can conduct semi-structured in-depth interviews with my guests in the build-up to the wedding to obtain their perspectives on marriage as a social construction. I could even ask our Rabbi for ethical clearance and triangulate any findings with my mother AND my new mother-in-law to ensure that the process is transparent.

In a couple of months I’ll be a married woman with my nose buried deep in my books. Until then, I remain a slightly scatty bride-on-a-mission: to grab a chapter of Maxwell’s book in between dress fittings, site visits and florist meetings, thereby keeping the PhD clock ticking (quietly) on in the background.

Musings after the passing of an intellectual

I read in the Cape Times this morning about the passing of Prof Jakes Gerwel. I’d never heard of him before today, but he sounds like a great man. I think people often think of academics as quite insular, focussed on creating new knowledge in their disciplines with no connection to the outside world. Reading about Prof Gerwel’s impact on UWC, Rhodes, and South Africa as a whole reminded me that academia is completely connected to society, and the qualities of integrity, courage and dignity transcend context.

I loved this quote in the article:

Gerwel stated that he could not “in conscience, in truth, educate or lead education towards the reproduction and maintenance of a social order which is undemocratic, discriminatory, exploitative and repressive”. Universities, instead, had to promote “through example a democratic culture”.

This reminds me that universities have an important responsibility to be more then just a place where kids get ready to find jobs. They have a part to play in shaping the South Africa of the future through the priorities that they set, their focus areas and the ideologies that they adopt.

It gets complicated once universities are accounting for the decisions that they make to a higher educational body, who may try to regulate them or steer them in a particular direction when it comes to things like research focus areas or admissions. There’s a delicate balance in this context between maintaining regulatory standards and something akin  to external control, and quite quickly universities could lose their independence and, hence, the ability to carry out Gerwel’s ideals.

Gerwel eschews leading education towards the “reproduction and maintenance of a social order…”. The question that arises for me is whether we, as South Africans, are satisfied with the current social order? And if we aren’t, how can we harness the potential of universities to be spaces of transformation? That’s what I’ll be pondering in the wake of this influential academic’s passing.

“Are graduates ready for the workplace?” (and should we care?)

I read this March 2012 article, headlined “Are graduates ready for the workplace?”,  a couple of weeks ago. The contention of the article is that employability of graduates should be the cornerstone of a tertiary education institution. Here’s the opening paragraph (bold text as per the article):

Will this qualification help me get a job? That should be the question on every school-leaver’s lips as they decide where and what to study. The question is a basic one that has complex answers: will study produce a graduate who will be productive and contribute to the economy? Many employers believe there is a gap, and that tertiary education institutions need to fill it.

Qualification… get a job… economy…

These are all very pragmatic, grown-up, necessary words.

But cast your mind to movies set in universities with ivy creeping on the walls, where passionate students carpe diem their way through their education, growing and learning as they engage with life-changing educators before throwing their caps into the air at graduation in the final scenes. Think about passionate students crafting arguments, expanding their thinking, staying up all night to write papers about subjects like existentialism, literary criticism, theology and poetry, all the while challenging norms and pushing boundaries.

These movies have little to do with employability and feeding the economy, but they epitomise my higher education dream. I think that being able to learn about truly interesting things from brilliant people is just about the biggest, life-changing privilege there is.

I read somewhere that in the days of conscription, the rich kids got to go to university while the poor kids had to go to the army. And I wonder whether these days we don’t have something similar: the rich kids get to do degrees in interesting, unemployable subjects, while those who can’t afford to bugger around for a couple of years aim for a qualification that will get them a job. While access to South African universities is expanding, it seems my fantasy of education for education’s sake still remains the preserve of a limited few.

The kids are all right

Lots of people bemoan the students of today. They say they’re always on their phones… they’re not engaged in current affairs… apathy is rampant and consumerism runs wild.

But the joy of my job is that I get to know the most vibey, sparky, funny and motivated young adults. Like yesterday, I coached a student for an important presentation she was giving. First off, even before I met her, I was impressed by her polite tone, enthusiasm, and desire to learn that she expressed in her correspondence with me. During the actual session, I watched her present; she was articulate, confident, and soooo smart (my engineering students always bowl me over with their general brilliance in areas I could never understand). And when I gave her feedback, she was receptive and so open to learning more.

And the joy of it is that this particular student is not the exception. 95% of the students I teach strive for excellence and betterment. They love debating things; they have strong opinions and relate what we learn in the course to who they are now and the kinds of professionals they want to be one day.

I’m certainly not naive. I’m not blind to the problems throughout the South African education system, in fact I’ve discussed many of them in this blog. However, it’s comforting to know that, at least in my department, the kids are all right. In fact, they’re pretty amazing, teaching me more about myself and teaching every day.

Presentation time: my favourite time of term

This semester, my head’s been stuffed with issues of diversity, access, inequality, voice, power and discourse on campus, which has made my whole university experience way more interesting. Now, each class that I teach isn’t just a space for a simple lecture. It’s a hotbed of subtle and overt action and reaction that I may or may not be interpreting correctly, and that I may or may not be equipped to act on.

Take, for example, the professional presentations that my students are currently working on. The brief is  to prepare a 5-10 minute persuasive presentation on an industry-related topic of their choice. They have to dress professionally, and include visual aids. They’re assessed according to their delivery as well as their ability to make their technical content understandable.

Presentation-time has always been my favourite part of the course. I tell my students that this is because finally THEY’RE the ones in front of the class getting judged instead of me! But actually, I love presentations because it’s a chance to get to know the students a little better. There’s something wonderful about actually hearing their voices, about seeing their vulnerabilities and helping them grow in confidence.

But, I’ve realised that even though we’re trying to teach the skill of giving a professional presentation, this task is by no means neutral. Firstly, the students need to speak in English. For the second and third-language speakers this is hugely challenging, and the demand that the presentation be in English portrays our ideology of the nature of industry today and the identities our students will need to adopt in the workplace.

Secondly, we provide our students with a clear presentation structure. This structure works, and we encourage our students to simply slot in their relevant content. However, is it possible that this is taking autonomy away from the students? Because they’re working with a pre-determined structure that they haven’t had to flesh out, perhaps they’re being taught a short-cut to success that might actually hinder them in the future when they’re facing real-life demands.

Thirdly, when I’m watching the presentations, I sit at the back on the class and scribble notes on each student. Being in this role reminds me of when I was a kid in drama competitions. The adjudicator was always an ancient woman with a bun, and she’d sit at the back of the room, unsmiling, judging, making notes. I was terrified of that woman. And now, I fear, I’ve become her. Being in that position creates a strong power dynamic between myself and the students. How does this impact on their experiences of the task?

Finally, I always push my students to stand confidently, shoulders back, both feet planted on the ground. I want them to speak loudly enough and at the right pace, and to maintain eye contact. It worries me that I don’t take their cultural and personal backgrounds into consideration as I push this western conception of an effective professional speaker. What about cultures where it’s considered rude to make eye contact with certain people? What about someone whose life history has never allowed them a space to voice their opinions before?

You know in Wizard of Oz, when the movie suddenly becomes colour? That’s how I feel now that I’m more conscious of what’s going on beneath the surface level of my lecture space. It’s sometimes challenging to know how to manage this; lets just say, as a lecturer, I’m not in Kansas anymore…

University today: still a place of light, of liberty, and of learning?

Earlier this year I participated in a course through UCT’s Centre for Higher Education (CHED) about Learning and Teaching in Higher Education (LTHE). The course was a great introduction to issues that surround the HE context, with a particular focus on South Africa, such as diversity, assessment, models of learning  and teaching, and evaluation.

Now, I’ve always been a real romantic when it comes to teaching. From the day I taught my first class (a drama lesson to 7 year olds!) I just knew that it was the thing I wanted to do every day. I’ve also always always loved learning, from my sprawling BA degree, where I got to float around and learn about interesting things like postmodernism and Italian-American cinema, and read books and write essays, to my very exciting Masters project.

So for me, the HE environment’s always been a bit fairy-tale like, from both a teaching and a learning perspective. But the LTHE course made me realise that my university glasses are heavily rose-tinted, and that in reality the system isn’t serving the needs of all South Africans. Some particular issues are:

• Access: Who gets to come to university?
• Cost: University fees are far beyond the reach of most South Africans, resulting in systematic exclusion of many students.
• Methodology: Does the university model of lectures and tutorials still serve the needs to contemporary students? The world’s changing rapidly; why does it seem like HE’s stagnated?
• Campus experience: Many students report feelings of racism and alienation on South African campuses.
• Scholarship: Is the university a place for scholarship, research, and learning for the love of learning, or is it about training students to fulfill a need in the marketplace?

This last issue vexes me, because if university’s becoming a pure training ground for the professions, then all that it’s doing is perpetuating the cycle of society running the way it currently does. We need 100 lawyers? Train 100 lawyers. Job done. Society continues as it always has.

Benjamin Disraeli said: “A University should be a place of light, of liberty, and of learning.” Does today’s model hold up to this?

As an educator training students in the professional skills they’ll need in industry, I have to acknowledge my role in this continuing cycle, and accept that I’m basically working for the man. However, now that my fairytale’s frazzled and my rose-tinted glasses have been cast aside, I can more critically weigh up the pros and cons of HE today, and locate myself in a position that may just make a bit of a difference somewhere. That’s my challenge. 

Should I be teach grammar?

Like the grammar nerd I am, I read the New York Times’ debate around the importance of grammar in education with glee . On the one hand, some employers say that they won’t hire people who use poor grammar (like this guy), while the argument can also be made that only focussing on writing skills may blind employers to the other very positive qualities that job seekers show. If these issues are equally riveting to you, read the full debate HERE.

Part of the Professional Communications course I teach involves writing, but because our course is so full, I don’t really have time to focus on core grammar and language skills. The fact that I teach in a context where many students aren’t first-language English students also means that students exhibit different levels of proficiency with the language. Some are very able writers, so it doesn’t make sense for me to spend time teaching things like full sentences, comma splices, and whether the period goes inside or outside the quotation mark.

I worry though, because many of my third-year and postgraduate students really do struggle with English writing. Does this mean they’ll be on the back foot when looking for jobs? I understand that Higher Education is meant to be about students confronting concepts and ideas and transforming the way they understand the world, but is enough time being spent on the basic skills? There are certain things students should know when they get to Higher Education institutions, but if they don’t, whose job is it to fill in the gaps?

But, perhaps I’m buying into a discourse where only formal, grammatically-correct English is acceptable in industry. Maybe the world is changing and employers are indeed placing more emphasis on things like visual media or technological skills, with writing becoming a secondary skill that employees can learn on the job. I’m interested to know: what do you think about this?

Innovation/Higher Education?

It’s back to work for me tomorrow as semester 2 kicks off at UCT. I’m terribly excited to be going back (seriously). This desire to get back to academics isn’t new. When I was a kid my brother used to tease me mercilessly on an annual basis when I’d be so excited for the first day of school that I couldn’t sleep. Which always resulted in a sleepy start to the term.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about my lectures and how I’m going to do things differently about this semester. I think it’s important to keep working on my practice as an educator, as this will keep me engaged and on my toes. I think most teachers will agree that as the years pass, their jobs get easier, which makes it easy to become complacent.

And if it’s easy for teachers to become complacent as the years pass, is it possible that this can happen on an institutional scale too? As Higher Education providers find their groove, and develop systems that work, might they become so comfortable that they stop responding dynamically to the challenges that the sector throws at them?

AND does this happen at government level too? Perhaps as the Department of Higher Education and Training implements solutions to meet the sector’s needs, it faces the challenge of missing out on more current problems.

“Innovation”, or the introduction of new things or methods, seems to be a very trendy word at the moment. Is innovation the way to ensure that Higher Education doesn’t get stale? There’s a lot to grapple with here, like who does the innovating and whether this is a top-down process, and whether too many innovators spoil the education broth. Either way, I’ll be spending the afternoon working out how to innovate in my subject matter to reinvigorate my practice this semester (and hopefully keep my students awake).

What? Teachers have lives? Noooo!

Remember that idea you had, when you were a kid, that teachers only existed between the hours of 8.30 and 3, and only within the boundaries of the school building? The idea that they had lives of their own, romantic partners, or social habits, was simply preposterous.

I remember the looks of sheer confusion on the faces of my old middle school students when they’d see me at the movies or in a restaurant. It was as if they couldn’t believe I left the school… Ever! I’d watch as they blushed scarlet, giggled, and basically fled as fast as they could. I chose not to take that personally.

Even though we teachers do have lives that don’t revolve around our students (shock! Horror!), I wonder if those little middle school kiddies weren’t onto something. Because I certainly don’t let my students know everything about me. In my classes, I’m myself inasmuch as I’m easy-going and conscientious, but I don’t think my students need to know my life goals and dreams, my every quirk and vulnerability. So maybe the person my students saw out and about was, in fact, very different from the one they saw weekdays in the classroom.

This leads me to wonder about the roles teachers play in the classroom. How does Gabi-the-teacher differ from the real me? What motivated me to develop my teaching persona, and how does it continue to evolve as I mature as an educator? And, most importantly, how does the my teaching persona facilitate learning in my students?

Does Higher Education encourage conformism?

One of my favourite things about being an educator is watching my students operate during my lectures. It’s like a microcosm of the world: in their two-hour-long interactions with me and their classmates, I see humour, nerves, confrontation, confidence, reticence, spontaneity, and shyness.

And sometimes, I also see pure drive. I can always pick out the students who are 100% results orientated. In the introductory lecture, they want to know exactly what they need to do in order to achieve the highest possible marks. They sit in the front row. They copy down every word I say (which does wonders for my ego). They email me for input as they work on their assignments. There are a couple of these in every class.

Normally these students are a lecturer’s dream as they’re always on time, they seem to care, and they lap up our every word. But I read something interesting by Light and Cox (2001) in their book “Learning and Teaching in Higher Education: The Reflective Professional”. They write that this attitude to learning may result in the “construction of conformist and dependent selves and self-identities”.

It struck me that the students who are valued the most in Higher Education seem to be those who follow the rules to T. But if education is meant to be transformative, should we be lauding students who can follow rules, or should there rather be reward for the free-thinkers, the revolutionaries and the mavericks?