So my big news at work recently has been that I've been given the "Better Business Writing" or "Business Writing Essentials" class. It's a 2-day, 6 hour class, which is far removed from the 15-week format I had been used to in my former life. The class is geared toward staff members at the university and who work for the university system, which is far removed from teaching undergraduates--and oh, there's no grading. I have the opportunity to revise our current materials if I so choose, and to make small changes to the course if I wish. Right now, I'm just glad to be teaching writing in addition to software--which means that for two glorious afternoons every couple of months, I will be teaching writing instead of software.
Now, you might not be able to tell from the blog, which can be wordy and indirect, but I am a good business writer--however, teaching business writing is not my forte. Which is to say, I haven't really done it. I've taught composition. And I've taught what we were calling at the time "technical writing," which, frankly, doesn't say anything about what you're writing, how you'll be doing it, or in what context. Instead, it presented a smattering of genres--reports, proposals, letters, resumes--and an overall approach, which was to consider who the audience is and what they would be doing with whatever it is you are writing for them. But on a level, teaching writing is teaching writing, and there are simply different contexts to consider, different purposes and audiences--in short, in teaching writing, as in writing, you have to consider rhetorical situation.
So to teach this class, I want to do a little bit of research. Finding that our department's books were out-dated (over a decade old), I consulted a former colleague of mine who teaches business writing for the business school at the university. He offered books, approaches, rubrics, and we just chatted a bit about what he does vs. what I do. And there's a BIG difference there.
He teaches MBAs. He teaches executives. These are the guys who are already in business, or who at the least already have a B.A. and some work experience. They are communicating on a whole different level, for a whole different audience, than the people I teach. Because my audience will be staff members. Not members of the upper administration, but their assistants, bookkepers, accountants. The people I teach need to know how to send an informative email that will not embarrass or irritate the others in the department, to write effective recommendations for employees to get raises--in short, they need to execute standard business correspondance with competance. And I'm going to be giving them tips. They don't need to propose or report on a merger, or write business or financial plans. And that's good. Because I don't want to teach the Haliburtons. Not. Even. A. Little.
What I will be teaching is, in some ways, more humble than academic writing. It will certainly be more practical. In many cases, however, the students will be in the same place as the freshman I used to teach, except that they will have been out of school for longer in most cases, their confidence might be lower to begin with than many (but not all) undergraduates. But they will know why they are there, because if they are there, it will mean that writing is in some way important to their jobs.
I do prefer teaching people to write as a means of communicating, discovering, and synthesizing their ideas. I do ultimately want to teach people to engage with and analyze the written word, however they encounter it, and ultimately to apply that same analysis to spoken language and the world around them. I believe that by having writing at our disposal, we are in command of a lot, whether it's important to anyone else or not. This is why I have four blogs. Or five. Whatever. And I believe that writing gives us access to our own thoughts in unique ways, even as it opens us up to others around us, for good or ill. BUT...
This does not mean that I don't relish the opportunity to teach practical writing to people who need it. Just that awareness on the part of the student--that writing is significant--validates what I am doing, and what I can do. But what is really important is helping people communicate--and making writing a bit easier, and a bit less intimidating. And along the way, what I have taught them might get someone else a raise, award or promiotion. It might help people understand one another. It might mean that someone reading an email feels a little less irritation in a day. And those are all good reasons to teach writing. In fact, there are no bad reasons to teach writing. Well, maybe to train minions for world domination.... But if I had to deal with executives? *sigh* I'd have to think twice.
Showing posts with label utilitarian education. Show all posts
Showing posts with label utilitarian education. Show all posts
Monday, September 2, 2013
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
"Ways of Seeing" vs. "Ways of Doing"
I'm not sure this is an insight, necessarily. But as I think about what Training has to offer to Teaching, I find myself thinking about how I am using the two terms. The distinction is one that feels a bit arbitrary to me, because I feel like what I am doing now is simply a subset of teaching rather than a different thing altogether.
So what am I doing?
Right now, after 10+ years as a graduate student and postdoc, teaching between 1 and 3 sections of composition and literature courses to undergraduates at an R1 university, I find myself at the same university, teaching technology courses to staff. See? Teaching. It's impossible to get around it. When we talk about what we do in terms of mission/vision statements, it is always "training." What do we do? We train. But when we talk about what we actually are doing when we're in the classroom, it's always teaching. Where is Mary right now? Oh, she's teaching. She's actually teaching HTML. I don't teach HTML. I teach Microsoft Word (3 skill levels), Outlook (2 skill levels), PowerPoint (1 skill level), and Adobe Acrobat Pro (1 skill level). And the kitchen sink, for anyone who's counting. It's a far cry from "Composition and Rhetoric" and "Introduction to Literature"!
And how is it different, you might ask?
In grad school, when we talked about teaching, it was usually to define our role as teachers--our "classroom personae." We discussed different types of assignments--ways of "decentering the classroom," of "avoiding the banking model" (which I have discussed before, elsewhere), of promoting inquiry. We were excited about using technology to create community and to get students engaged with the material. We learned that it was not actually okay to be an expert in the classroom, and that students should be participants in their own student-centered learning, which meant creating group assignments and other assignments that allowed for investigation and critical thinking. At least, theoretically. My most successful experiment in decentering, encouraging active learning, and promoting inquiry involved student blogging. Hmmm. Go figure.
In technology training, on the one hand, we have a ready-made, hands-on, participatory situation. Each participant is in front of a computer. The are following along with the instructor, trying out the strategies that I introduce, and completing activities either on their own or as I show them on the projector. On the other hand, though "active learning" is a term that's all over training and professional development literature, I don't see what I'm doing as promoting active learning. They follow my lead. They repeat a model. If we're lucky, they remember something. If not, they have the book. Retention really only happens when there is something that registers as the answer to a problem or something that will be particularly useful in their own job contexts. As each of their contexts is unique, and as my experience with using the programs as support staff would do is limited, they supply the contexts and make the connections. I am largely unable to do that at this point.
At root, this is the banking model, hands on or not. I give them a skill (not knowledge--skill), and they give it back by showing that they know how to do it. Transference is big--how do we know that what they have learned in this 6-hour class will transfer back to the workplace? Well, we don't. And we have different skill levels coming in, changing job duties, and many repeat customers (university-affiliated staff--or their departments--don't have to pay) who come back to learn things that they didn't use after the first class, or that they didn't remember. They don't resent it, which is good. (Or most don't.) It is useful in a way that a writing or literature class seldom is, and so most participants are happy with what they can get out of the classes.
At the same time, I am very much expected to be an expert. I am not an expert. If I am an expert in anything, it is not in Microsoft Office. I would say that I'm getting there--certainly my comfort level is increasing. But I don't know the ins and outs of the programs--in part because I don't use them for any real-world applications. I am learning software for the sake of learning and teaching software. Hmmm. It actually feels a bit disingenuous--much more phony than teaching writing, which I definitely practice. I am, however, expected to be an expert. "Let's learn together" simply doesn't cut it here. "Let's try it out" is a little bit better, but there's definitely a bit of skepticism when I can't immediately answer the question, "What does this button do?" So having been taught absolutely not to lecture, and that the expert persona was rarely if ever the most effective way to teach, I am, in fact, having to lecture. I am, in fact, filling the role of an expert. (No, I'm actually not.)
I worry about this. A lot. Because this is not my preferred method of instruction. I like to be a co-collaborator and journey with my students. And being forced to seem the expert makes me feel completely incompetent, which is how some of my students (if not all, or even most) perceive me. And I don't want to learn this new mode at the expense of everything I have ever known about teaching.
So what does the training model offer?
There are some things that do transfer, but they are small things, practical things, approaches, methods, activities. But they exist within the sphere of training. Part of me worries about whether that crossover will be viewed askance by teachers in higher education. As universities are wondering what their roles will be in the changing perception of education, worrying about things like "customer service" and "utilitarian" models of education, I am coming from exactly that place. It could be that my insights will lend some rejuvenation and a sense of relevance, but I think it is equally likely that they will be dismissed as coming from exactly that threatening place. We do not want teaching to become training.
And what about the title of the post?
I return to the difference between teaching and training--particularly humanities teaching, which is where my interest lies. In the humanities, we teach because we are interested in perceptions--in "ways of seeing." We teach to change perceptions, or raise awareness of perceptions, or to promote new perceptions. I am thinking primarily of English and History, but the same could be said of Anthropology and Sociology, and perhaps even the soft side of Psychology. Of course, the groupings change, and I am aware that most of the above would/could be considered Social Sciences rather than, strictly speaking, Humanities. But perception is still key. (Some would, no doubt, correct or add that we are interested in "ways of knowing." I'll leave that possibility for now.) By contrast, training is about "ways of doing." It is practical. Applied. Hands-on. At least, that's the goal. It is the "how"--not the "why" or even the "what." (Well, it's a little bit of the "why," just differently... More the "what for?" than the "why?")
I'm afraid that by melding the "ways of doing" with the "ways of seeing," I will mark myself as irrevocably practical and applied. That my way of introducing relevance by way of training techniques, knowledge, and practices will be rejected because it is the Other against which, at this moment, higher education is poised. I stand to put a utilitarian spin on courses that are already marked as "service" courses, and I understand the politics of that kind of move, even if it is not my intent. And for a discipline that is struggling between being "unacknowledged legislators" and "mak[ing] nothing happen," it might not be the right moment for my insights.
So what am I doing?
Right now, after 10+ years as a graduate student and postdoc, teaching between 1 and 3 sections of composition and literature courses to undergraduates at an R1 university, I find myself at the same university, teaching technology courses to staff. See? Teaching. It's impossible to get around it. When we talk about what we do in terms of mission/vision statements, it is always "training." What do we do? We train. But when we talk about what we actually are doing when we're in the classroom, it's always teaching. Where is Mary right now? Oh, she's teaching. She's actually teaching HTML. I don't teach HTML. I teach Microsoft Word (3 skill levels), Outlook (2 skill levels), PowerPoint (1 skill level), and Adobe Acrobat Pro (1 skill level). And the kitchen sink, for anyone who's counting. It's a far cry from "Composition and Rhetoric" and "Introduction to Literature"!
And how is it different, you might ask?
In grad school, when we talked about teaching, it was usually to define our role as teachers--our "classroom personae." We discussed different types of assignments--ways of "decentering the classroom," of "avoiding the banking model" (which I have discussed before, elsewhere), of promoting inquiry. We were excited about using technology to create community and to get students engaged with the material. We learned that it was not actually okay to be an expert in the classroom, and that students should be participants in their own student-centered learning, which meant creating group assignments and other assignments that allowed for investigation and critical thinking. At least, theoretically. My most successful experiment in decentering, encouraging active learning, and promoting inquiry involved student blogging. Hmmm. Go figure.
In technology training, on the one hand, we have a ready-made, hands-on, participatory situation. Each participant is in front of a computer. The are following along with the instructor, trying out the strategies that I introduce, and completing activities either on their own or as I show them on the projector. On the other hand, though "active learning" is a term that's all over training and professional development literature, I don't see what I'm doing as promoting active learning. They follow my lead. They repeat a model. If we're lucky, they remember something. If not, they have the book. Retention really only happens when there is something that registers as the answer to a problem or something that will be particularly useful in their own job contexts. As each of their contexts is unique, and as my experience with using the programs as support staff would do is limited, they supply the contexts and make the connections. I am largely unable to do that at this point.
At root, this is the banking model, hands on or not. I give them a skill (not knowledge--skill), and they give it back by showing that they know how to do it. Transference is big--how do we know that what they have learned in this 6-hour class will transfer back to the workplace? Well, we don't. And we have different skill levels coming in, changing job duties, and many repeat customers (university-affiliated staff--or their departments--don't have to pay) who come back to learn things that they didn't use after the first class, or that they didn't remember. They don't resent it, which is good. (Or most don't.) It is useful in a way that a writing or literature class seldom is, and so most participants are happy with what they can get out of the classes.
At the same time, I am very much expected to be an expert. I am not an expert. If I am an expert in anything, it is not in Microsoft Office. I would say that I'm getting there--certainly my comfort level is increasing. But I don't know the ins and outs of the programs--in part because I don't use them for any real-world applications. I am learning software for the sake of learning and teaching software. Hmmm. It actually feels a bit disingenuous--much more phony than teaching writing, which I definitely practice. I am, however, expected to be an expert. "Let's learn together" simply doesn't cut it here. "Let's try it out" is a little bit better, but there's definitely a bit of skepticism when I can't immediately answer the question, "What does this button do?" So having been taught absolutely not to lecture, and that the expert persona was rarely if ever the most effective way to teach, I am, in fact, having to lecture. I am, in fact, filling the role of an expert. (No, I'm actually not.)
I worry about this. A lot. Because this is not my preferred method of instruction. I like to be a co-collaborator and journey with my students. And being forced to seem the expert makes me feel completely incompetent, which is how some of my students (if not all, or even most) perceive me. And I don't want to learn this new mode at the expense of everything I have ever known about teaching.
So what does the training model offer?
There are some things that do transfer, but they are small things, practical things, approaches, methods, activities. But they exist within the sphere of training. Part of me worries about whether that crossover will be viewed askance by teachers in higher education. As universities are wondering what their roles will be in the changing perception of education, worrying about things like "customer service" and "utilitarian" models of education, I am coming from exactly that place. It could be that my insights will lend some rejuvenation and a sense of relevance, but I think it is equally likely that they will be dismissed as coming from exactly that threatening place. We do not want teaching to become training.
And what about the title of the post?
I return to the difference between teaching and training--particularly humanities teaching, which is where my interest lies. In the humanities, we teach because we are interested in perceptions--in "ways of seeing." We teach to change perceptions, or raise awareness of perceptions, or to promote new perceptions. I am thinking primarily of English and History, but the same could be said of Anthropology and Sociology, and perhaps even the soft side of Psychology. Of course, the groupings change, and I am aware that most of the above would/could be considered Social Sciences rather than, strictly speaking, Humanities. But perception is still key. (Some would, no doubt, correct or add that we are interested in "ways of knowing." I'll leave that possibility for now.) By contrast, training is about "ways of doing." It is practical. Applied. Hands-on. At least, that's the goal. It is the "how"--not the "why" or even the "what." (Well, it's a little bit of the "why," just differently... More the "what for?" than the "why?")
I'm afraid that by melding the "ways of doing" with the "ways of seeing," I will mark myself as irrevocably practical and applied. That my way of introducing relevance by way of training techniques, knowledge, and practices will be rejected because it is the Other against which, at this moment, higher education is poised. I stand to put a utilitarian spin on courses that are already marked as "service" courses, and I understand the politics of that kind of move, even if it is not my intent. And for a discipline that is struggling between being "unacknowledged legislators" and "mak[ing] nothing happen," it might not be the right moment for my insights.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)