After reading bell hook’s chapter on “Narratives of Struggle,” I was initially thinking I would choose the novel The Round House by Louise Erdrich as an example of a critical fiction. The book focuses on the (unsuccessful) prosecution of a white rapist who commits his crime against a Native woman on tribal lands. It details just how difficult it is for the tribal judge -- who is also married to the woman who was attacked -- to prosecute the crime because tribal legal jurisdiction is often superseded in unfair ways by U.S. jurisdiction. In the end, the woman’s son ends up killing the rapist with the help of his friend to bring about justice.
However, as I thought more about it I realized that, although The Round House is an important book for the light it sheds on the tribal legal process and the injustice within that system that impacts Native communities, it may not actually be a “critical fiction” in the same terms that bell hooks’ outlines. For hooks, a critical fiction is not just a retelling of a particular community’s challenges or pain. In fact, she notes that “literature emerging from marginalized groups that is only a chronicle of pain can easily act to keep in place the existing structures of domination” (p. 59). Instead, she states that “the writer of critical fiction makes the conscious decision to locate her work in the realm of oppositional cultural production. That choice is most often informed by a desire to intervene critically in the status quo, to participate in cultural revolution” (58). In essence, critical fiction ‘reimagines’ the world in a more equitable way, and ‘reimagines’ the author’s community in powerful, positive ways that reject the dominant narrative about it. So, while The Round House has an important goal in showing the reader a challenging, ultra-realistic portrayal of injustice in Native communities, it does not take an additional step to reimagine this reality. What, then, might constitute a text that not only chronicles a community’s challenges, but also reimagines that community in a powerfully critical way? If I can stretch the meaning of “text” to include both words in book form and words in the form of a scripted movie, I’d like to propose that the movie Black Panther, directed by Ryan Coogler and written by him and Joe Robert Cole, is an excellent example of a critical fiction. (I would include a link to the film directly, but it does need to be purchased to view) Black Panther chronicles the nation of Wakanda and its transition in leadership from the deceased former king to his son, King T’Challa. Wakanda is assumed by the outside world to be a “poor African nation,” when in reality it has the richest reserves of vibranium (a fictional super-metal) in the world. In fact, Wakanda is actually home to the most advanced technology on earth, and has chosen to cloak itself from the outside world to avoid being sucked into needless conflict. In this way, the very setting of the movie pushes against common stereotypes about Africa and its supposed “need” to be developed by the West. This resistance and reimagining of reality continues throughout the film. For instance, King T’Challa’s 16-year-old sister, Shuri, is head of technological development for the nation. Her positioning as an expert in technology as a woman of color (and a teen!) resists and reimagines the audiences “usual” narrative about young black women. Not only that, but when an American intelligence agent is injured and brought to her high-tech lab for medical care, she comments, “Great! Another broken white boy for us to fix.” This line creatively jabs at the ‘white savior’ mentality by flipping it completely on its head -- now it’s the white man in need of saving! Black Panther could be an incredible asset in teaching critical fiction in the classroom. Not only do I think students appreciate multi-modality in analyzing texts (and come on, it’s fun to have ‘movie day’ every once in a while!), the movie is also rich in imaginative, subversive scripting that can be analyzed for the commentary it makes on culture. I think it would be really interesting to combine the critical analysis of the movie through a race or gender lens (having students identify how these identities are played out by the different characters), and also having students look at other texts that construct a meaning of what it means to be African or African American. For instance, you could also have students read Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness after watching the movie and have them note the differences between that and the portrayal of African identity in Black Panther. Or, you could combine the watching of Black Panther with a reading of Richard Wright’s Native Son or with texts by Malcolm X, James Baldwin or historical documents related to the actual Black Panther political party. Together, these could create a compelling, multi-layered exploration of race in film and written texts for students. References: Coogler, R., Cole, J. R., Feige, K., Boseman, C., Jordan, M. B., Nyong'o, L., Gurira, D., ... Buena Vista Home Entertainment (Film),. (2018). Black Panther. Erdrich, L. (2017). The Round House. New York: Harper Perennial. hooks, bell. (1991). Narratives of Struggle. In Critical Fictions: The Politics of Imaginative Writing (pp. 53–61). Seattle, WA: Bay Press.
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After finishing this week’s readings, I was struck by a few distinct moments in the texts that I’d like to explore further. The first was a story shared by Hilary Janks in her introduction to Doing Critical Literacy. In the midst of sharing the important ways critical literacy explores questions of power, diversity, access and textual design/redesign, she shared a short story about an elderly woman in one of her university classes that really struck a chord with me.
This woman, unlike her younger peers who were more socialized to the conventions of a college classroom, chose not to share her opinion without being invited to do so. In an interesting analysis of the other students’ mindsets, Janks says, “the students saw her as a victim of a sexist practice and wanted her to adopt the interaction patterns used at the university and to contribute whenever she had something to say” (2014). As I read this passage, it caused me to reflect on my own experiences in classrooms, both secondary and university. In general, it seems that the American classroom prioritizes students who are eager to jump in and share; the ones who state their positions and thoughts confidently in the midst of discussions. Disagreement, I’ve found, is usually encouraged as we assume it means students are thinking critically and examining what those around them have to say. While none of this is inherently bad, I really wonder if we’re truly getting at the heart of a truth-telling and honest discussions when the loudest or most confident students in the room are sharing. How often have I, without realizing it, spent discussions thinking more about how I was going to respond to what was being said, instead of how I could understand it? So here’s what, in Janks’ story, really blew my mind. Once the students adapted and began to invite the elderly student to share, she says, “what they discovered when they did this is that if you ask someone to speak, you have to listen to what they say” (Janks, 2014). How powerful! What they saw as “victimhood” in this woman, was simply a different way for her to achieve power in the classroom. Her life experiences and the way she chose to approach the world was not, in fact, a shortcoming, but an asset. What incredible power this woman had in, instead of choosing to compromise her set of unique cultural conventions and values, she honored her perspective and chose to be herself. Her example really demonstrated to me the power of creating environments where students can stay authentic to their backgrounds during discussions and listening is prioritized as much as sharing. I feel like this is especially relevant, given Janks’ and the other authors’ focuses on the theoretical foundation of critical literacy this week. So much of what we read really honed in on critical literacy as a means to identify the workings of power in texts, and then (as Janks puts it) “redesign” or reimagine texts in a more transformative, equitable way. This process will almost guarantee a wide variety of potentially disparate or even conflicting opinions as students tease apart texts to find meaning and discuss topics on unequal power distributions. With that, however, I believe the lesson the elderly woman taught the other students is especially pertinent. We, as educators, must make sure that we create an environment where students are invited to share their perspectives and explore new ones, and at the same time allowed to authentically show up as the complex, multi-layered person that they already are. In some cases, I believe this process may involve structuring a discussion so each student gets an uninterrupted chance to share (ie. restorative practice circles). That said, it also makes me think about how I need to balance the way structured discussion can ‘make room’ for quieter students with the reality that some stories -- even hard ones, or loud ones, or emotional ones -- really need to be told. Dr. Grinage’s work hugely impacted me in showing how the introduction of “traumatic” texts like the poem “Strange Fruit” into the classroom actually invites a cathartic process of grieving that has been prevented for years due to our culture’s collective unwillingness to admit to a past of racial trauma in the U.S. He states that “the transmission of past racial violence and the emergence of this violence in the present is illustrative of a racially melancholic nation struggling to exist with generations of ghosts” (2018) -- “ghosts” that have allowed to exist by silencing language around racial violence in schools and society at large. This, I feel, is the other ditch that we as educators need to avoid. Do we need to create spaces with helpful structure so that students can approach challenging topics in an environment of safety? Absolutely. But once the idea of “creating safety” actually becomes a way of silencing perspectives or insulating students from the harsh reality of our nation’s past, it is no longer creating safety, it is perpetuating harm. Resource Link: Teaching for Black Lives - This is the website for Teaching for Black Lives, a book published in 2015, and includes practical resources available for download and practical support for educators looking to implement anti-racist classroom practices and teach in a way that honors and uplifts students of color, and particularly black students, in their classrooms. References: Grinage, J. (2018). Socializing with the Ghosts of Our Racial Past: Embracing Traumatic Teaching and Learning in Literacy Education. Journal of Language & Literacy Education. Janks, H., Dixon, K., Ferreira, A., Granville, S., & Newfield, D. (2014). Doing critical literacy: texts and activities for students and teachers. New York: Routledge I’ll be honest… I probably wouldn’t have said I was very interested in literary theory prior to starting the English licensure program this past summer. Yes, I was an undergraduate English major, but it was only because there wasn’t an option to major in creative writing. The reason I wanted to be an English teacher was to help give students tools to express themselves and own the power of their own voice through written expression, not teach literary theory.
That said, a few of these readings are really starting to make me think about the importance of literature in a classroom setting. I loved how Appleman described our role as educators: “As literature teachers, we are charged with helping young people make their way meaningfully in the world. Therefore, we must help them make sense of a myriad of texts, to read and if necessary, resist the ideologies embedded in those texts” (xiv). I suppose it’s a bit irresponsible of me to assume that students will be able to write effectively if they do not have the tools to understand written works and the world around them at the same time! In particular, the passages we read from Critical Encounters in Secondary English got me thinking about the relationship between reading, writing, and the very act of thinking itself. Appleman pays special attention to the role that ideologies, or sets of usually unconscious beliefs about the world, play in both individual student’s lives, and in the world around us. She makes the case that all literature contains ideologies that are not readily apparent, but can (and should!) be revealed through putting on literary theories like ‘glasses’ through which different features of its meaning are highlighted. This was a totally new mindset for me. Like many students now in our mid-20’s, we grew steeped in ‘close reading’ and ‘reader-response’ approaches to literature. In essence, these two theories only allow for the textual features themselves or the reader’s life experiences to come into play in understanding the meaning of text. During my schooling, I wouldn’t have called those two approaches ‘theories’ -- to my knowledge, I didn’t even understand what a theory was! That was simply how studying literature was done; they were the only options presented and as a student I assumed they encompassed the totality of how literature could be studied. Little did I know there were other theories, other “lenses,” that existed and could have helped me draw additional meaning from the text! Looking back, I wonder if having access to additional theories, like postcolonial, gender, new historicism or deconstructionist, would have made me more interested in literary theory? After all, I was the kid who grew up reading the newspaper my dad left out on the kitchen table -- I was absolutely fascinated with systems, governments, and the way society worked. But literature never seemed connected to those things! I have specific memories of rolling my eyes at having to read yet another Shakespeare play in high school English, wondering how I could survive the boredom (I know, I know, how does a future English teacher not like Shakespeare?). Had I understood that reading Shakespeare actually had the potential to help me interpret the big, fascinating world around me, I feel like it would have made an enormous difference in motivating me as a reader. Although I can’t change my own experience, it does give me tons of hope for how teaching literature in a classroom setting can be more powerful than I ever realized! In particular, I loved the concrete teaching examples Appleman provides in chapter 2 for introducing literary theory to middle and high school students. I mean, what student wouldn’t love to watch Star Wars in class? Jumping off the ideas in the text, I thought of an activity of my own that could be helpful to implement in a future class: for example, I would love to have students do an “Ideology Inventory” activity that involves their community. After a lesson that introduces the concept of ideologies/worldviews and how they can function both individually and in society, I would have students go home and interview 2-3 important people in their lives (who they feel have shaped how they see the world). Students would have a set of questions to ask like “What do you think are the most important character traits a person can have?” “What are acceptable/unacceptable ways for people to behave in public?” or “What is the role of children in their families?” to help them identify what their interviewees’ worldviews are. Then they would take these findings back to class, and write their own response about whether they agree or disagree, and how these perspectives have influenced them. I think this activity would be a great intro to literary theories, so students can begin to understand how their perspective can be similar to and different from others, and eventually to understand how each literary theory also “sees” the world in a unique way. Overall, this multiple theories approach is very different from what I initially thought the study of literature could be, and I LOVE the possibilities! Resource Link: Reading and Writing Haven blog // “A Simple Way to Introduce Students to Critical Reading Lenses” -- This blog written by a former ELA teacher and current curriculum designer and instructional coach has super helpful activity ideas and articles on how to introduce ELA topics like critical reading lenses to students. The ideas are creative and access to the blog is free! I loved that this week’s readings approached curriculum creation and design from both practical and theoretical angles. On one hand, we got a lot of practical, implementable tools and instructional design templates in Wiggins’ & McTighe’s Understanding by Design, while on the other, the readings also delved deeper into the “why” behind creating quality curriculum in Gloria Ladson-Billings' The case for Culturally Relevant Pedagogy and Smith & Willhelm’s Teaching so it matters (which did have a few helpful practical examples too!).
Together, I got the sense that all of these authors, though they touch on curriculum design in different ways, have a high value for creating lessons and content that connect deeply with students and invite them into a learning journey over which they actually have ownership. As I was reading, I found their ideas sparking a sense of excitement and anticipation inside of me. This is what I was hungry for when I decided to leave my job in the nonprofit world and finish my teaching license! I have always found the learning process fascinating, but found it difficult to figure out why I’ve had such a passion for learning when it comes to personal endeavors, but don’t remember that same passion inside of me as a learner in school. ( For instance, I am an absolute Podcast geek, and I love learning anything I can about current events, time management, personal finance/investing, music, playing the piano, etc…. I literally have my own “learning notebook” where I create projects for myself based on my interests and track my progress on what I’m learning!) I had lots of amazing teachers in my time in school, but honestly? There are very few times I can recall in my educational career where teachers -- even the “good ones,” the ones I liked and felt connected to -- sparked a genuine sense of curiosity that caused me to take that same kind of ownership as a learner that I do in my “outside of school” life. For instance, I remember Mr. Hoelz, the popular chemistry teacher. He was the “fun” teacher, and always made us laugh. He even occasionally found ways to explain how science connected to our life as teens. But even in Mr. Hoelz’ class, the curriculum was made up of mostly “coverage-based” and “activity-based” content (Wiggins & McTighe, p. 20). Our year in science class was simply covering required concepts, and our science labs were “cookbook labs” where students got into groups and followed exact instructions out of the workbook to get the same result. To an outside observer, our labs probably looked like engaged, cooperative learning, but all I remember is being absolutely checked-out as a student. I can recall specific moments of inner thought that went something like, “Why are we even doing this? If I wait 20 minutes until we’re all done, I’ll know the answer we were all ‘supposed’ to get anyway. What’s the point?” I usually participated as little as possible in these labs because I found them so boring. I was amazed when Wiggins & McTighe almost perfectly described this type of activity: it was “hands-on without being minds-on, because students do not need to (and are not really challenged to) extract sophisticated ideas or connections. They don’t have to work at understanding; they need only to engage in activity” (20). This is probably why I found the ideas in each of the articles so fascinating -- they all address that “checked-out” student in different ways. Gloria Ladson-Billings offers an idea when she talks about how culturally relevant teachers “encourage students to act as teachers, and they, themselves, often functioned as learners in the classroom” (163). I also LOVED the idea of working backwards from a “provocative” (When does that word come up in education??) essential question that students can actually argue about and must use inquiry skills to answer, as presented in Teaching so it matters. I felt like this strategy went hand-in-hand with the Understanding by Design process of working backwards from an educational goal before creating activities and content for students to work towards that goal. All three of the theorists offered strategies and deeper reasoning behind creating instructional content that actually engages students and invites them into a learning journey. When I think back on the sometimes (often?) bored student I was in high school, their ideas resonate even more -- I bet I would have liked science a lot more if it had had a clear goal and connected with the world around me! It definitely makes me excited to learn how to apply these skills in my own classroom someday. Resource Link: Teaching with Inquiry Learning Podcast: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/teaching-with-inquiry/id1309256060 There are over 100 episodes on this Podcast by a Canadian educator! She teaches upper elementary through 6th grade, so perhaps the ideas would be most useful for middle school teachers, but she has LOTS of ideas and podcasts available the address teaching topics and inquiry learning. |
AboutM.Ed English Ed. candidate at the University of Minnesota. ArchivesCategories |