Liminal High School
Life as a Teacher Student
Summary
So many people in education talk about "life-long learning," and the people in this book exemplify that idea.
Excerpt
Table Of Contents
- Cover
- Halftitle Page
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Contents
- Acknowledgments
- Inventing Scholarly Lives
- Introduction: Inventing Hope
- Chapter 1. Humble Beginnings
- Chapter 2. Conducting the Orchestra
- Chapter 3. Trials and Triumphs: A Timeline of My Teaching Journey
- Chapter 4. Spanish Language Success Stories: Insights from My Most Achieved Learners
- Chapter 5. The Space Between the Wall and the Bed
- Chapter 6. Teacher on Trial: The Case of the Public Intellectual
- Chapter 7. Seeking the Fundamental, Elegant, and Simple
- Chapter 8. The High A: Opera’s Highest Note Should Be Education’s, Too
- Chapter 9. Never Say Never
- Chapter 10. The Power Struggle in Education
- Chapter 11. Dr. Coach Davis
- Chapter 12. Athletics and Education: All Men Were Created Equal, Then Some Became Athletes
- Chapter 13. An Educator’s Path: Journey of an Unexpected Teacher
- Chapter 14. Building Bridges: Ensuring Every Voice Is Heard Within the Social Studies Classroom
- Chapter 15. Finding Anchorage
- Chapter 16. The Ontology of Metamodernism and the Reconstruction of Human Civility
- Chapter 17. How Way Leads on to Way
- Chapter 18. Getting the Big Screen Through a Small Door: Film and the High School Classroom
- Notes on Contributors
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I first want to thank my family for never telling me not to try things, or take chances; liminality has its costs, but they never told me to be anyone or anything else, and for that I am eternally grateful. And speaking of costs, I’d also like to acknowledge how hard this work is for the teachers featured in this book. As I’ve said in other places, there is very little time or career incentive for teachers to do theoretical work and contribute to fields of research, and so I’m really proud to be a part of this group of authors who do it anyway. I’m also proud to be working again with Shirley Steinberg, John Weaver, and Peter Lang, and I’m thankful for the support they’ve given my career. Finally, and most importantly, I thank God for another day to do this kind of thing.
INVENTING SCHOLARLY LIVES
John A. Weaver
This is our second go around, David and me. If you count serving as his dissertation chair then it is our third, but it is our second with David editing a book. I decided to do something different for this preface. One of the disturbing trends in education fields like curriculum studies is that few scholars read other scholars’ work. Peter Appelbaum and I recently edited a special issue for The Journal of the American Association for the Advancement of Curriculum Studies on data and algorithms. A few of the participants posted on Facebook that the issue was published, and numerous colleagues wrote their congratulations and promised to read the essays. To my knowledge, no one has read these articles. These friends and colleagues were not being mean spirited, but sincere. They just were not going to fulfill their promise. This is why I rarely think about my audience when I write. I cannot make someone read, nor do I want to, unless you are my student—then you have no choice. You will read! But even then, there have been students who were faking it and playing a game. So, I am going to do something different in this preface. I am not going to write something pronouncing how this book is important and others should read it. I will not write a lengthy explanation of why you, as a teacher and a scholar, should read this book. I am writing this preface to the chapter writers, most of whom I taught, chaired their dissertations, or served on their committees. I applaud your commitments to reading and writing. You are scholars, and never give that title up. Schooling, as you know, will suck the intellectual soul out of your body and laugh at your lifeless teacher corpse as the administrative, political, and capitalistic buzzards circle around you. Fight back from these political, economic, and (ill)cultural forces by reading more, writing more, and thinking incessantly. We few scholars at the university, and there are only a few of us left, desperately need and crave companionship. We need, like you, people to talk to about books and ideas.
Quickly, what do I mean by inventing a scholar’s life? By “inventing” I mean living a scholarly life must be nurtured every day, or it withers away and dies a tragic, lonely death. As scholars we get to invent our work. Please invent; very few get to define our work conditions. To be a scholar you must read almost every day. If you do not crave reading, then you are not a scholar. There is no way around it. Once you have mastered the art of reading, you need to put your thoughts down in some coherent structure so your peers can critique, judge, respect, and, hopefully, honor you. It can be a frustrating and risky endeavor, but there is no better way than peer review from a community of scholars. Sometimes they make good suggestions, but always they know your field of study. Some within the field may let you down or steer you in the wrong direction, but the whole community of scholars never will. Finally, inventing yourself as a scholar means thinking without much pause. Thinking through is necessary no matter the topic; thinking intently and letting answers emerge without a time frame in mind is sage advice even for teachers who are required “to think on their feet.” Thinking with is necessary. With colleagues, ideas, inspiration, dedication, perseverance, and curiosity—these are all essential. Thinking philosophically should be nurtured. This means diving deep into the traditions of Western, Eastern, Latinx, Indigenous, African, Judaic, Aboriginal, Feminist, Queer, and Subcontinental thought and letting those traditions take you on a journey where you do not know where you will end up. It means thinking historically, culturally, sociologically, anthropologically, theologically, artistically, and even economically, too. This is what I mean by inventing a scholarly life.
If by chance you are not one of the contributors of this book, good. Read it. Be a scholar, learn from it, and create something else from it.
My Friend David
Robert Pogue Harrison wrote these words in his book Forests (1992, p. 238): “for when a nation loses its poets it loses access to the meaning of dwelling. When it loses the meaning of dwelling, it loses the means to build … for when a nation ignores its poets it becomes a nation of the homeless.”
The United States of America is a mess because of the willful choice they made to shun poets and embrace hucksters. I have said this many times, but I will write it down for the first time. U.S.A.: where the S stands for “suckers.” What a delusional people the U.S.A. citizens are. You and I are U.S.A. citizens, yet we are not delusional. It is because we did not, like so many of our peers, reject the path of the poets. We embraced them instead. I think this is why we gravitated towards each other when you were a student. We read different people, but we shared similar ideas about what life is. We learned from our teachers and professors to dwell not in a house filled with possessions and a garage with three cars plus our vacation house at the shore (I am from Eastern Pennsylvania) and in the mountains. We dwell in a well-built home enveloped by the embrace of books. We are dwelling poetically in the madness, figuring out—as you note in your introductory chapter—how to steal time for reading. You are a great thief, and this book shows everyone that. Actually, it does not take much to be a great thief of time for reading. If one wishes to steal time to read, one will find it no matter what. This is why you continue to be a scholar. You have created your own work, live at your own pace, and while so many around you are frazzled and bedazzled by shiny objects on social media, there you are, setting your own path with a poetic goal in mind. You have built your own dwelling.
David—No, the Other David
Hi David. I have never met you, but I have read about you. You mentioned noise in your autobiographical chapter and appropriately defined noise in schools as meetings, duties, emails and the like. Let me add to your idea of noise to include unfunded mandates from state legislatures who purposely add more work to teachers and administrators but no extra funds to hire new teachers, and interference from businesspeople who think they know best and wish to turn every school from kindergarten to graduate school into a technical school so they can find cheap, docile labor. In this noise, the actual purpose of education gets lost. Students and their intellectual development are almost completely lost in educational systems. Students have been reduced to economic entities whose sole purpose in life is to get a job and buy things. That is not life; that is inhumane treatment and soullessness. Teachers are lost, too. They are merely information, not knowledge, conduits which students are to plug into and download information. This too is not life; it is spiritless, mere existence.
I want to share with you a quote from the French philosopher Michel Serres and present to you a modest proposal. In his book Parasite (1980/2007, p. 14), Serres writes, “a parasite is responsible for the growth of the system’s complexity, such a parasite stops it … are we in the pathology of systems or in their emergence and evolution?” For Serres a parasite is a source of noise. It can be a disrupting knowledge-less noise, or it can be a productive, meaningful, awe-inspiring noise. What kind of noise is an educational system? Is it one that is pathological, or is it one that creates, invents, emerges with new meaning and purpose every year as the students change? This is your challenge. What kind of noise is your school creating? Is it mind-numbing, standardized, politically-safe and chamber-of-commerce-approved noise which will require more meetings, more classroom time disruption, and more teacher alienation—or is it uncertain, risky, intellectual, creative noise emanating from students and teachers?
My modest proposal for you is this: help your administration do everything to open up your school to new, thoughtful ideas that do not come from sanctioned sources like leadership programs or other outside sources. Instead of latching onto the latest “how to …” and “the secret to …” books, return to the classics and share the vision of different educators. Share with your teachers and students Robert Frost’s vision of education that he develops in “Education by Poetry” (1931). Yes, poets have long thought about the importance of education, and they have never followed easy steps or passed a standardized test. Then turn to another poet, Audre Lorde, and read her “Poet as Teacher—Human as Poet—Teacher as Human” (2009). She will not let you down. You will see teaching differently. Once you do read these, do not stop. Enter the journey that leads you into areas you never thought existed but now seem essential to your life. Once you do this, then create your orchestra and invite teachers and administrators to join you. When they do, and they will because they will see the positive changes in you, the meetings will diminish, the emails will subside, and the noise will change. Then invite the parents, and once the parents are in your orchestra, then the politicians and businesspeople can be held at bay because their vision of an education is the very essence of pathological noise.
Kathleen: Will’s 69.4 and the Many Masks of Utility
Kathleen, I remember “Will” from your dissertation. It is always disconcerting to hear about or see students who value little except that which they think is useful. Then I think of where they got such a notion of life and education. Students who view learning as an economic transaction are only parrots who hear it from adults like their parents, businesspeople, and even sadly their teachers. I want to share a passage from Virginia Woolf’s wonderful book, A Room of One’s Own (1929/1981, p. 47): “She picked a book up now and again, one of her brother’s perhaps, and read a few pages. But then her parents came in and told her to mend the stockings or mind the stew and not moon about with books and papers.” Make sure your students moon over books, papers, and ideas in Spanish, English, or another language. Languages are important to master, but it does not matter which ones. Will is at peace with his 69.4 because he lost the ability to moon over. The difference between Woolf’s fictional female character and Will is Woolf’s character had her mooning privileges taken away from her and Will’s were extinguished through the inculcation of wrong values. Both, though, share this in common. Utility, or the vision of what is useful, was the culprit behind their denial of an education. Woolf’s character was a woman. She was supposed to darn socks, mind stew, and do useful household chores. Will, as a male, is supposed to get an education so he can get a job. Spanish will not get him a job, he so mistakenly has been told and now assumes to be true, so he can buy things and rev that economic engine that defines so many people’s lives. Your task as a teacher is to never use utility as a rationale for why Spanish as a second language or third is so very important. Spanish, like any second or third language, opens up the world to new possibilities and never lets the multi-lingual person down. Every day becomes an adventure when utility is abandoned in education. With utility checked at the schoolhouse door, Will has no more purpose for defining a 69.4 as good enough. 69.4 becomes meaningless, and anything short of fluency is not acceptable, even if he were to turn that 69.4 into a 96.4. Those numbers are the result of a utility-based society; multi-lingual speakers are a result of a better world.
Stacey the Landlubber?
Stacey, your metaphors are strong in this book. You have always coveted solitude, and I know why and where that was nurtured. Can one ever read Whitman or Serres and not covet solitude? When you wrote of the seas of solitude, I immediately thought of Serres’s imagery of how the learner must leave the embankment, cross the waters, and return to another embankment, forever changing those waters and themselves. You are not the same person you were when you entered the Curriculum Studies program at Georgia Southern University. Any educational experience that does not transform a person is not an educational experience. It is indoctrination. It is time, though, for you to enter those seas again and say goodbye to a land you have moored yourself to. I noticed you referred to Sabrina and me as “Drs.” Of course we are. We earned that title and most importantly the degree. This earning of a terminal degree means we earned the right to educate ourselves, and that is what we did and continue to do. It is your turn. We are not “Doctors” to you anymore. We are passing islands of solitude on your seaward journey searching for your own island. It is time to depart again, this time leaving behind old formalities and texts you read while a student. These texts shaped who you are, and they are old friends you can always count on. But it is time to leave the friendly confines of your formal educational neighborhoods and find new companions, new ideas, and new forms of solitude. Alfred Whitehead (1929/1967, p. 39), whom you cite and understand, also wrote these words that I share with you:
Education is the guidance of the individual towards a comprehension of the art of life; and by the art of life I mean the most complete achievement of varied activity expressing the potentialities of that living creature in the face of its actual environment.
Your actual environment can be all that you dread—meetings, standardized testing, homogeneous thought, and isolation, but that is not what Whitehead meant by life or actual environment. Your life and environment are for you to create. What will you read to create your environment? What thoughts will emerge? What will you write that is free from your intellectual past and part of your new, emerging future? Once you figure this out, place a message in a bottle and send it adrift. It will reach my island eventually, and in my solitude, I will read it with joy. I will reminisce of the times we spent with common books and ideas, and I will revel in what you created on your own.
The Simple Eloquence of John Cato
I am sure you remember, John, that in Field Theory (Owen, 2019) I called you a liar. You may think I have changed my opinion of you, since now I am suggesting you are simply eloquent. No, I still think you are a liar—a really good liar—and I still think that paper you wrote for me in our ethics class is one the best papers I have read. Calling you a liar and eloquent is just my way of saying I like your style. I want to share with you a thought from Michel Serres’s (1995/2017, pp. 172–173) book Geometry: The Third Book of Foundations:
Observe with what precision all the elements of an algorithm are put in place: the path or method to reach a goal, the practical and simple finality of a mechanism, the exact measurement of the segment traveled, the decomposition of the process into elements, the step-by-step procedure … the repetition that is repeated in the figure and the form, in the scene and for number, the same action to be done after the same action done, the very probable deviation from a fable.
As you seek out simple eloquence, and there is absolutely no reason to stop searching for it, in your classroom, always remember in spite of all the precision of algorithms, the tight methods, simplicity of a mechanism, the exact measurement, and the step-by-step procedures that make life seemingly easier, predictable, or manageable, there are stories, fables, by which we live. It is the complex eloquence of the stories that we humans tell ourselves that make the search for simply eloquent classrooms possible. Another way to put this is wherever there are eloquent physics classrooms and laboratories, there is messy, necessary, life-affirming art. Physics and art have been separated by our society because it is simpler, which is never simply eloquent, to compartmentalize than to contemplate entanglements, but physics and art go together naturally. It is always your job as an excellent teacher to sort that whole mess out through the stories you tell your students. You already know this and if you told me otherwise you would be lying.
Details
- Pages
- XXIV, 230
- ISBN (PDF)
- 9781636676555
- ISBN (ePUB)
- 9781636676562
- ISBN (Softcover)
- 9781636676548
- DOI
- 10.3726/b22802
- Language
- English
- Publication date
- 2025 (June)
- Keywords
- liminal scholar teacher student high school graduate school teaching life-long learning Liminal High School Life as a Teacher Student David P. Owen, Jr.
- Published
- New York, Berlin, Bruxelles, Chennai, Lausanne, Oxford, 2025. XXIV, 230 pp.
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