Today I grinded my axe with the teacher of 2 of my 3 theatre courses this term:
The "Socratic Method" and critical thinking
cannot happen in a vacuum.
A few weeks ago my theatre professor asked me when no one else was in the shop to hear,
"So Kimberly, you're an educator, how do you feel your classes are going so far? Are they living up to your expectations?"And he heard a very long pause.
"That bad eh?""Well," I answered.
"I still have SOME of my hair left."(I think it was evident to him that my meaning was: "I've not torn all my hair out in frustration over these courses").
He laughed. Awkwardly.
I continued, "It's just that my kind of personalitly likes to analyze things with an eye to how they could be better. And there is a lot of room for improvement. If you're serious about knowing the answer to my question, ask me again in 3 weeks."
[click the time below to read the full post]
I was thinking and hoping that maybe if a few more weeks go by I won't emotionally tear apart nearly every detail of class time that was, to put it mildly 'not maximized.' I have come to a belief that he's a capable theatre artist, but an inept educator. I feel that though time in class stimulates my curiosity, anything I have learned about scenic design or technical theatre this term has come in self-study, OUTSIDE of my time face to face with this man who has his position at Pasadena City College on the grounds that he knows his stuff and has a lot to offer.
Well, more three weeks have gone by and it turns out that today was the day. All of the others had left around noon and I lagged behind straightening up in the scene shop.
"You know Eric, yesterday's scenic design class was the best one we've had yet." I said.
And then I told him why: before diving into an assignment to make a model box, we sat around at a table, and he showed us how it's done. (Sure, he used the materials belonging to one of the students, thus doing her assignment for her, but at least we were getting A CONCRETE EXAMPLE).
From here we ventured into a very lively and animated discussion. It was really fun. I love to argue and I feel like this was an opportunity to have a hand in sharpening this obviously gifted and skilled theatre artist in his weaker skills as an educator.
I told him that I respected him as an artist and I could tell that he really cared about his students. I don't want to vent my frustrations in writing through a "teacher evaluation" that would be first seen by the head of his department. I wanted him to hear it from me and hear from my lips that I know that he has a lot to offer me and I feel he is cheating me. Let him have a chance to answer to my accusation that he is hiding behind his belief in the socratic method and telling us to go out there an find what we need from the whole world of overwhelming resources that a scenic designer needs to know about. Give him my reasons why he needs to offer more structure and specific instruction and examples in this beginning/foundational course. Tell him that though I disagree with not having a textbook, I think it's entirely unacceptable that he's not even given us a bibliography! Worse yet, we've never even had a handout! Welcome to Junior College in America!
I have to say, it was stimulating to try to hear each other out, to violently disagree, and concede, and to even agree, and I HOPE to encourage him to be more of an inspiration and adept educator in the future.
"Start off this course by telling us about who you've learned from," I said. "What inspires you? Let's not waste our precious few weeks of a one term course to overview a vast subject. We spent nearly a whole class listing what tools we need to buy while you waiting for us to take the time to write it all down? I wrote some of it down wrong! Wouldn't it be better if you gave us a handout of a list and then got on with teaching? And then you let us pick the play we were going to all work on? Scenic designers don't get to pick out the play they design, so let's not waste a week in class of blank looks around the room about possible plays we could choose."
"Are you saying that these students are stupid?" He gave me a smirk.
"No. I'm saying that these students don't have some important core knowledge they need in order to make a good choice of a play, or to execute the assignments.
"These student can't list the titles of more than a few plays between them. The only other kid who had any input said, 'Duuuhhh, I was thinking about maybe a Shakespeare play, but I can't remember the name right now, and you said that it shouldn't be a Shakespeare play, so uh, never mind.' That's why I went and looked into the list of Pulitzer Prize winners and found which ones are the single set shows and brought the synopses to class. I'm someone in the class who at least knew of the Pulitzer Prize and that there is an (almost) annual award for drama. I didn't want to waste my semester working on just any old show! But 2 weeks 'discussing' what play we'll work on as a class? It's a waste of time!
"Why don't YOU tell us a famous play that you're curious about spending time working on. YOU say to us, 'Go read THIS PLAY, and next week we'll discuss it and get to work.' And how can we get to work if these students haven't seen many shows, and the shows we've seen haven't been watched with the eye of a scenic designer? How do we know what the unlimited possibilities are if we haven't even looked at a concrete example of a realistic set design vs and abstract one?
"This is how I understand the educators role who wants to teach his students to think critically: YOU, the Expert, tell us in the first week 'Here's a list of 5 different kind of contemporary scenic designers. Pick one and go research examples of his/her work. Come back next week and report back why you think that they are top in their field.' And if we don't get it right, then don't berate us and make us feel stupid for our amateur analysis. Add to what we share with your expertise. I asked for you list and spelled the names wrong, so came up with only a few to look into from my Google search. I went to the library and checked out a few of the only 16 books in the stacks on scenic design. I brought them to class. 'Meilzener,' you said, 'oh he's one of the greats. Yes. He's very famous.' So I spent hours pouring over his book and reading what he wrote and sketching copies of his designs. Only to hear you say 5 weeks later, "Yeah, he's famous but no one designs like him ANY MORE."
@#$@!!! &*@! %&@! %&!!! At this point I'm thinking that my teacher is not only NOT teaching me anything, he is working AGAINST my efforts at doing any profitable learning this semester!
WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY THAT 5 WEEKS AGO BEFORE I DOVE INTO STUDYING THE GUY?
(Did I say that this discussion was "lively?") He came back with,
"Well he was great, and it is worthwhile to study and know his work."
(I wanted to strangle him.)
He told me some stories of students not completing assignments, or turning them in late, or complaining about him on their class evaluations. So I asked, "Do you have this experience and feedback with all of your classes? Do you get the same lack of participation and reluctance to be the first to turn in assignments? It can't all be student laziness. I don't think you will ever have a JC student who has as much interest in learning the subject with as much free time to devote to it and as much theatre background as I have, and I'M FRUSTRATED WITH NOT UNDERSTANDING WHAT YOU WANT. It can't all be the students' fault.
"Do you know that we all talk about our reluctance to be the first person to bring forward an assignment for critique? It's because we know that we'll not have understood it right, and in the process of our displaying our bad example, and you pointing out why we didn't get it right, the rest of the class benefits by finding out, "OH THAT'S WHAT HE MEANT!" so they can go back home and work on their assignments with more clarity.
He replied. "But I am constantly asking people if they understand and no one ever says that they are confused."
"No, you have a bad habit of saying, '...You know what I mean?' every 5 seconds. This is a very bad habit and you have to STOP IT! You have to stop it because, from the start we realize that when you ask it, you do not wait for an answer....And when this is the case, you are not REALLY making sure that we understand, but that you are using this as a crutch in your communication style to put the onus on us for your not communicating clearly!
"Besides, no one is going to speak up in class, in front of their peers and say that they don't get it. People just don't do that. I'm old enough to be my classmate's mother and confident enough to teach this subject without having ever had a course in it, and I'M reluctant to pipe up when I don't understand.
"And if what you are telling me is that these problems are typical in the classes you teach, perhaps not all of the students are lazy or unmotivated. Perhaps many, like me, don't understand the assignments and get deflated in the process. You say your critiques 'are NICE compared to the feedback you'll get in the business.' But in reality all of us are not heading into a career in scenic design where we'll face ruthless directors who rip apart our work. In reality, we are getting a taste of this craft, and an appreciation for what it takes to be good at it. We are gaining a vocabulary for collaborating with scenic designers if we end up venturing into other arenas of theatre work.
"You have this chance to inspire us and intrigue us from the wealth of knowledge and experience in your head, and we're instead getting overwhelmed and defeated by your stubborn refusal to pass any of it on under the guise of a commitment to the Socratic Method. We're trying to take it all on and come to you as if we're experts when we haven't the foggiest idea where to begin!
I disappeared for awhile because I discovered two new things: Facebook and the plays of August Wilson. Two things that can form addictive behavior. Facebook is kinda like hanging out with friends on steroids, alone. The August Wilson obsession has knocked off two more from my list of Pulitzer Prize winning plays. Fences, which loved reading and missed seeing at the Pasadena Playhouse by one year! (starring: Laurence Fishburne and Angela Bassett!) And The Piano Lesson.
