"Where Did I Go Wrong?" [Teacher Edition]

My need and desire to expound on this particular post today actually fills my heart with much sadness, especially within the context of the class that I teach, itself: Philosophy. And, not just philosophy, but a large part of it (the entirety of the fourth unit, and quite a bit weaved within the first three) on ethics and behavior and looking at the Good and Truth and Beauty, and all that.  So maybe I'll start with my goals as an educator in a Philosophy-based classroom before I work back to what's going on in my head regarding other things.

Philosophy, for me, was something I was always interested in, but never had a chance to pursue until college -- my first exposure to pure philosophy (though in an extremely limited capacity) was through my AP English Lit teacher my senior year of high school; and really, it was through existentialism, of course (our reading of the same text we're covering right now in class, The Stranger by Camus).  But, I've always been the kind of kid that looked at things differently, that saw beyond the obvious.  Often, this got me in trouble -- on standardized tests, especially in verbal sections, like the SAT for example (ugh my scores were so 'meh'), I could sit and rationalize answers for hours by just looking differently at the text or the question, or the semantics of it all.  I wish we would have had the writing section when I was in high school -- it would have been my only saving grace (it was on the GRE -- the graduate-level equivalent to the SAT -- where I got a 6/6 on the writing, which is actually apparently very hard to do).

When I started college, it was very easy for me to fall right in love with the subject.  And, it was easily one of the most worthwhile decisions I've made as an adult in going back to get a Masters in Philosophy.  Honestly, in looking back at the essays I wrote in high school, then as an undergrad, then as a graduate student, I can see just how insanely far my own thinking has come in so relatively short a time (really about 10 years... sounds like a lot to you, but when you get old like me... not so much haha).  Without philosophy, I seriously don't know what I would have even written about -- I look back at high school papers about symbolism and that kind of nonsense, and see what naivety was coming out of my fingers and brain, and realize I had nothing of substance to offer until Philosophy.  And it's not just my writing -- my life has so much depth and meaning as a result of the things I get to think about, having been so exposed.  I thirst for it, every day.  And I can't even begin to tell you what a joy it has already been to be able to spread that to people -- even if no one in my classes get it or care, at all, though it would be nice to reach even just one other person and give them that eye-opening experience that's been so foundational to my own being.  Teaching this class has been phenomenal, and I can't wait until I've done it a few times and become good at it so that I know what I'm doing is the right thing (it'll take time to make the mistakes and fix them, my apologies -- it's just how things work).  I want to be able to help guide others -- be that "Socratic teacher" -- toward becoming not just better students (which in the traditional sense of 'task-performing drones' I could absolutely care less about), but better learners and more importantly, better people.

Which brings me back to the Ethics thing, and my dismay as of late.  I try to build this class around open-mindedness, free speech and expression, creativity, personal intrigue, and philosophy's inherent intention: love of knowledge/wisdom.  That love should be genuine, sincere, and personal (ah, the personal individual subjectivity of Kierkegaard).  And yet, there is still the external pull of grades, of scores, of letters and numbers... and I wish I could do away with it. Unfortunately it's the system in which we operate and thus I can only do so much to emphasize what I think is important (i.e. the learning and its intrinsic value in making us better people), while being up against the forces of college apps, transcripts, student competition, and scholarship awards.  Inevitably I'm David against a massive Goliath... though that might be a more than hopeful analogy to make (as it would assume that ultimately, I will win; I'm not so confident).

Writer, fellow teacher, and author Jessica Lahey of the New York Times and Atlantic wrote a couple of articles a few years ago on the prevalence of student academic dishonesty in all academic levels -- high school and up -- which I found intriguing, and places some of the blame on teachers too (or at least, on the school system), which I also believe have much validity (much to my own chagrin).  She enumerates several failings which contribute to compelling students to take dishonest measures: 1) performance-based tasks vs. mastery-based encouragement; 2) prevalence and pressures of high-stakes testing; and 3) lack of student personal self-efficacy and esteem (something which teachers can mould within the classroom -- something I like to think at least that I work hard to give students; I hope I say enough how much I believe in my kids and how much I value them and love them etc).  She offers up a bit of a conclusion to this, though I'm not ultimately satisfied with how we are to do this in an individual classroom without a serious culture change nationally:

In order to earn our place at the front of a cheating-free classroom, educators are going to have to own our share of the blame for the atmosphere of high-stakes testing and extrinsic rewards that we've created. Cheating is not solely the fault of our students or the declining ethical standards of the millennial generation, but a product of our testing-oriented and performance-obsessed culture. The American educational system should focus on the handing down of knowledge and skills rather than test preparation and administration. The same conditions that encourage cheating discourage our students' mastery of content and skills. And while we waste our time attempting to catch cheaters in the act of deception, we are distracted from our higher goal: catching students in the act of learning.

-- Jessica Lahey, "A Classroom Where No One Cheats"

This is all and well, and I completely agree with everything she says... and yet how? How can one teacher in one classroom stand up against an entire culture of sentiments? What can I do -- in my one hour a day -- to reverse an entire 13 years of educational folly that does just those things mentioned above? How can I begin to show my students that they are too smart and too good to use the internet as a crutch when writing their papers, to go without citations and copy/paste because of a need to get a certain score or complete a certain task just to turn in a piece of paper for points? 

And I know it's not (or at least, I hope it's not) entirely personal -- I know how hard my students work, how involved they are, how stretched they are, and how their time is allotted; I was a student once too -- an AP student, at that.  In fact, my senior year schedule was nothing BUT AP classes, while also the drum major of band and involved in a bunch of other things, too.  I've felt the stress of college applications and essays and acceptance letters and the complete stress of the unknown future. And, it wasn't even that long ago. I'm not that old.  I have been my students (just in a different city, with a different family -- I've always been the one to put more stress on myself).  So I understand the way in which lack of time, or fear, or whatever else can get in the way of learning, and the strength of the temptation to make my life just a little easier by using some 'help' to get by.  After all, "it's a one page assignment, who cares?"  It's so interesting that often, this is the talk and behavior of students who are exceptional -- who are dedicated to multiple avenues of study and activity, who are great people in and out of the classroom, who are incredibly bright and capable, and who frankly, know better.

Jessica Lahey also did some research for another article, where she actually got one of those bright, capable, ambitious students to philosophize on the need for his cheating.  She summarizes:

This student felt justified -- even ethically obligated -- to cheat when he felt he had been denied a good education. His teachers, he argued, had cheated him of the education he deserved and promulgated the very system I blamed for the rise of academic dishonesty. He'd responded by cheating right back in retaliation. Most journalists are thrilled when evidence comes to light that support their argument. I, however, was divested. It's one thing to read the statistics of cheating, but it's quite another to be faced a real-life example of a student cheater.

-- Jessica Lahey "I Cheated All Throughout High School"

What is scary about this is that responsibility for ethical behavior is totally surrendered.  And, with all of the discussion of choice and responsibility currently happening in my class, I can just hope and pray to whatever God we want to call upon at the time (we've covered so many versions this year, pick one eeny-meeny-miney-mo), that this isn't the case in my classroom -- that I'm not failing to provide my students with the education they think they deserve, or that they actually do deserve and hopefully appreciate.  The above student-cheater-representative goes on to rationalize his behavior, claiming that "It should be expected that when a student goes to school, he or she enters a social contract with the teacher, one that demands teacher expertise, devotion, and instructional talent in exchange for the student's discipline and commitment."  I completely agree... but is it always a result of the teacher's failing of that contract? What of it when it is the student's failing? What then? Who is to blame? Like Lahey argues, "the teachers and administrators who heaped accolades on this student's shoulder, wrote the letters of recommendation that secured his admission to a top university, and placed their faith in his intelligence and character [my emphasis] deserved more."  

I really hope, that by the end of the semester -- any of them present and future -- that my students will realize my passion and dedication to the eye-opening experience of testing their own limits, measuring their own worth, exacting their own individual primacy, and the gratification and satisfaction of becoming a whole, true, and Good human being. Even just a little bit.  I hope that ultimately, the realization will be that philosophy isn't something to cheat -- because ultimately, all you're doing is cheating yourself out of the chance to make a choice that really defines you as something meaningful, individual, and more important than just a cheater.  For me personally, ethics isn't just an 'ends-justify-the-means' game -- but maybe I'm too much of a classical virtue ethicist for this day and age.  

To my students: aim to be more than just followers, perpetuating a broken education system that says complete the task and get in line makes you a drone -- not a person. Be people. Be responsible people, and know that how you act, and what you do, even on the SMALLEST of things, becomes who you are.  You are loved, and valued. Thank you for taking the time to read my rant. <3