Critical Pedagogy in the Language and Writing Classroom: Strategies, Examples, Activities from Teacher Scholars 9781032412429, 9781032399157, 9781003357001

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Critical Pedagogy in the Language and Writing Classroom

This volume introduces theory-­ to-­ practice-­ based critical pedagogy grounded in Paulo Freire’s scholarship to language and literacy learning settings. The chapters present authentic experiences of teacher-­scholars, feature real-­world examples and activities ready for implementation in the classroom, and provide nuanced guidance for future teachers. The examples and activities from teacher-­scholars place critical pedagogy at the heart of classroom contexts and cover key topics, including place-­ based pedagogy, contemplative pedagogy, technology within the classroom, and translingual and multimodal paradigms. The chapters include further readings and discussion questions that challenge assumptions and promote deeper reflection, and can be modified for different teaching contexts. This practical volume is essential reading for students and scholars in TESOL and critical pedagogy. Gloria Park is the Program Director of MA TESOL and Professor of Applied Linguistics and Language Teacher Education at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. Sarah Bogdan is an English as an Additional Language teacher to high school students in Thailand and a recent graduate of Indiana University of Pennsylvania’s Masters in TESOL program. Madeleine Rosa is an English as an Additional Language and First Year Writing instructor at Seton Hill University, USA, a First Year Writing instructor at Duquesne University, and a recent graduate of Indiana University of Pennsylvania’s Masters in TESOL program. Joseph Mark Navarro is a lecturer at the University of California Santa Cruz and San Jose State University. He is a PhD candidate studying Composition and Applied Linguistics at Indiana University of Pennsylvania.

Critical Pedagogy in the Language and Writing Classroom Strategies, Examples, Activities from Teacher Scholars Edited by Gloria Park, Sarah Bogdan, Madeleine Rosa, and Joseph Mark Navarro

Designed cover image: © Getty Images First published 2023 by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 and by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2023 selection and editorial matter, Gloria Park, Sarah Bogdan, Madeleine Rosa, and Joseph Mark Navarro; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Gloria Park, Sarah Bogdan, Madeleine Rosa, and Joseph Mark Navarro to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. ISBN: 978-1-032-41242-9 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-39915-7 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-35700-1 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001 Typeset in Baskerville by SPi Technologies India Pvt Ltd (Straive)

Contents

List of Contributors Foreword Introduction: How It All Began

viii xiii 1

GLORIA PARK

  1 Transforming Language Education: How Instructors Incorporate Translanguaging and Critical Pedagogy in Community Schools

9

SARAH BOGDAN

 2 It Can Happen Here: Neoliberalism at the Community College and How Critical Pedagogy Can Resist It

23

KEVIN LAMKINS

  3 Utopian Social Praxis in First-Year Writing Courses: Reflections on Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed 36 JOSEPH MARK NAVARRO

  4 The Cost of Failing Freshman Composition: Policies That Penalize Multilingual Learners in Higher Education 49 CORINNE ALICE NULTON

  5 Contemplative Creative Writing as a Pedagogical Practice 66 MADELEINE ROSA

  6 Creative Writing in English as an Additional Language Classrooms 76 MADISON PRICE

vi Contents

  7 Personalized Learning for English as an Additional Language (EAL) Learners: Fostering Agency and Dismantling the Banking Approach 86 JONELLE DONGILLA

  8 Resisting Linguistic and Cultural Erasure in the Charter Context: Challenging Critical Pedagogy Applications within the Composition Classroom

95

MARINA PALENYY

  9 Localizing the Practice of Critical Pedagogy through Place-Based, Problem-Posing Education

106

ALAN CHAN

10 Critical Pedagogy and Postmethod in Francophone West Africa: Possibilities and Practical Application—the Case of Mali

119

RAMATA DIALLO

11 Critical Pedagogy and Writing in Online L2 Instruction Post-COVID: Suggestions for New Teachers

135

MARCELA HEBBARD

12 “A Hope That Moves Us”: Embodied Critical Hope in One Graduate Program’s Fight against Faculty Retrenchments 146 MEGAN E. HEISE

13 Bringing to a Collage

161

ALAN CHAN, JONELLE DONGILLA, CHRISTOPHER DOXTATOR, MARIAH FAIRLEY, MARWA MEHIO, AND PARAWATI SITI SONDARI

14 Theater of the Oppressed

163

MEGAN E. HEISE AND MAHMOUD OTHMAN

15 Linguistic Instrumentalism

168

JAMES DUNN, ISLAM M. FARAG, AND MARCELA HEBBARD

16 Reflections on Silence PATRICIA MILLER AND LISA PARZEFALL

170

Contents  vii

17 Dialogue and Critical Pedagogy

172

KEVIN KUDIC, GABRIEL LEVINE-JUSTICIA, AND MARINA PALENYY

18 Performative Pedagogy

174

CRYSTAL CONZO, JEANETTE LONG, AND CORINNE ALICE NULTON

19 World Englishes and Language Varieties

177

SARAH BOGDAN, RAMATA DIALLO, AND DALIA SEIFALLAH

20 Glocal Identities and Practices

180

MADELEINE ROSA AND TYLER NUÑEZ

21 Identity in Learning Communities

182

FORSTER KUDJO AGAMA, KEVIN LAMKINS, BERNADETTE M. LÓPEZ-FITZSIMMONS, JOSEPH MARK NAVARRO, AND TRISHA KELLY TRAVERS

22 Problematizing Theory and Practice

185

ALAN CHAN, JONELLE DONGILLA, CHRISTOPHER DOXTATOR, MARIAH FAIRLEY, MARWA MEHIO, AND PARAWATI SITI SONDARI

23 Theory to Practice of Dialogic Approach

189

SAYED ALI REZA AHMADI, MYSSAN LAYSY, AND POOJA BHATIA NARANG

Index

192

Contributors

Forster Kudjo Agama is a professor of English at Tallahassee Community College in Florida. He is currently a PhD candidate in the Composition and Applied Linguistics Program at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. His research interests are linguistic justice, composition theories, translanguaging, teacher identity work, and writing in transnational contexts. Sayed Ali Reza Ahmadi taught pedagogy, composition, and linguistics in the English Department of Balkh University in Afghanistan for seven years. Ali is a PhD candidate in Composition and Applied Linguistics. He served as a Fulbright teaching assistant at the University of Georgia in the United States in 2014/2015. Sarah Bogdan is an English as an Additional Language teacher to high school students in Thailand. She is also a recent MA TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) graduate from Indiana University of Pennsylvania. Her research interests include translanguaging, raciolinguistics, and identity work. Alan Chan is an instructor at the English Language Centre of the University of Macau. He received his MA in Applied English. He used to teach high school English and was awarded the “Distinguished Teacher” Honor. His research interests include pragmatics, semantics, TESOL, and language-­learning anxiety. Crystal Conzo coordinates writing tutoring in the Learning Center at Shippensburg University of Pennsylvania and is pursuing a PhD in English Composition and Applied Linguistics at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. Ramata Diallo is a PhD student in the Curriculum and Instruction Department at the University of Wisconsin-­Madison. She holds a master’s degree in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages (TESOL) from Indiana University of Pennsylvania. Her research interests include language teacher education, identity, and policy, critical pedagogies, issues in ELT, and antiracism.

Contributors  ix Jonelle Dongilla teaches junior and high school students in the Indiana Area School District, located in Western PA. Formally trained as a secondary English teacher and ESL Specialist, she enjoys incorporating multimodal practices and researching transmodality in her work with linguistically diverse students. Christopher Doxtator teaches courses on rhetoric, writing, and technology at the University of Colorado Denver’s International College of Beijing, where he received the 2022 distinguished faculty award. His research focuses on program and classroom language policies and ­orientations that are inclusive of all student identities and languages. James Dunn teaches basic writing and first-­year composition courses. He is a PhD candidate in Composition and Applied Linguistics at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. His research interests include basic writing theory and pedagogy, composition studies, and critical pedagogy. Mariah Fairley teaches undergraduate intensive English and composition, as well as graduate-­ level TESOL courses, at the American University in Cairo. Her research interests focus on pedagogizing language teacher identity through individual and collaborative work, and promoting social justice in the classroom and workplace. Islam M. Farag is a first-­year composition instructor and a foreign language educator. Currently, he is a PhD candidate in Composition and Applied Linguistics at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. His research interests include critical pedagogy, educational policy, and the developmental process of writing expertise. Marcela Hebbard is a senior lecturer in the Writing and Language Studies Department at the University of Texas Rio Grande Valley. She is also a doctoral candidate in the Composition and Applied Linguistics program at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. She has published collaboratively in WAC Clearinghouse and in edited collections (Banks & Spangler, 2021). Her dissertation focuses on how multiracial writing teachers construct their professional identities and pedagogies. Megan E. Heise is an adjunct faculty at Carnegie Mellon University in the Writing & Communication program. She is a doctoral candidate in the Composition and Applied Linguistics program at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. Her scholarship can be found in Inspiring Pedagogical Connections and Professionalizing Multimodal Composition (forthcoming 2022, Utah State University Press). Kevin Kudic is a high school English teacher in New York City. He has taught ESL and English literature in a variety of local and global contexts to adults and young learners. He is currently pursuing a PhD at Indiana University of Pennsylvania, where his focus is on researching the nexus of identity, social justice, and language acquisition.

x Contributors Kevin Lamkins teaches basic writing and composition. A recent presenter at CCCC and TYCA Northeast, he is co-­author of a chapter in the forthcoming book Radical Transparency: Perspectives of Graduate Education in Rhetoric and Composition. He is ABD in the Composition and Applied Linguistics program at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. He is currently working on his dissertation focused on white composition teachers’ identities and how they impact their pedagogies. Myssan Laysy teaches writing, TEFL, and ESP in Lebanon and the UAE. Myssan is a PhD candidate in Composition and Applied Linguistics at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. She holds degrees in English and media studies from the American University of Beirut. Critical pedagogy and teaching in crisis contexts are among her research interests. Gabriel Levine-­Justicia is an English professor at Pace University in New York City, where he teaches composition and critical writing to first-­ and second-­year students. He began his coursework for his PhD at IUP in summer 2021. His research interests include antiracism, ethnic studies, and critical pedagogy. Jeanette Long is the director of Learning Support Services at Mercyhurst University, where she coordinates academic accommodations, organizes and runs the freshmen experience sequence, and supervises the peer tutoring center. Her research interests lie in Universal Design for Learning, disability studies, and educational equity. Bernadette M. López-­Fitzsimmons is an academic librarian and liaison to psychology, modern languages and literatures, education, counseling and therapy, and intensive English language programs. She is an adjunct instructor to Spanish-­speakers enrolled in a two-­year associate degree bridging program. Currently, she is pursuing a PhD in Composition and Applied Linguistics at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. Marwa Mehio teaches academic and technical writing at the American University of Beirut. As a teacher-­scholar, she is interested in multilingual, transnational, and international composition, postcolonial and critical pedagogies, and the role of power and ideology in language learning and use. Patricia Miller works as a writing tutor at Fairleigh Dickinson University and teaches research writing. She is also completing her doctoral coursework in composition studies and applied linguistics. Pooja Bhatia Narang has taught General English, EAP, and ESP in Saudi Arabia for ten years. She is a PhD candidate in the Composition and Applied Linguistics Program at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. Pooja holds an MA in English from India and TESOL from the UK. Her research interests include academic discourse socialization and language teacher identity.

Contributors  xi Joseph Mark Navarro is a lecturer at the University of California Santa Cruz and San Jose State University. He is a PhD candidate studying Composition and Applied Linguistics at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. His dissertation explores the antiracist academic identity in English Language Instruction (ELI) and First Year Writing (FYW). Corinne Alice Nulton is an academic adviser for at-­risk students and an adjunct instructor. She is the drama and poetry editor of Door Is Ajar online literary magazine, and she’s written for each of The Night Bazaar anthologies. She is currently pursuing a PhD in Composition and Applied Linguistics at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. Tyler Nuñez is a recent graduate of the MA TESOL program at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. His research interests include raciolinguistics, comic book pedagogy, and narrative literacy. Mahmoud Othman has taught English in Costa Rica and in Egypt. He is a PhD student at Indiana University of Pennsylvania in the Composition and Applied Linguistics program. He received his MA in TESOL from the same university. In 2014, Mahmoud obtained the Fulbright scholarship to teach Arabic at Marlboro College. Marina Palenyy is a high school composition teacher in Nashville, TN. She has taught English and composition for a decade in the United States, in a variety of charter and public contexts. Her goal is to incorporate sociolinguistics into composition instruction and create a more equitable perspective on language construction. Gloria Park is a professor, program director of MA TESOL, and a recruitment specialist for English graduate programs at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. Her research and teaching areas are language teacher identity, language teacher education, and intersectionality approaches to understanding teachers’ lives. Lisa Parzefall teaches various writing classes at DePaul and Loyola University and ESL classes at DePaul’s English Language Academy. She is also completing her doctoral coursework in composition studies and applied linguistics. Madison Price is a graduate of the Indiana University of Pennsylvania’s MA TESOL program. She is interested in creative writing within English as an Additional Language classrooms. Madeleine Rosa is currently an English as an Additional Language and First Year Writing instructor at Seton Hill University and a First Year Writing instructor at Duquesne University. She is a recent graduate from Indiana University of Pennsylvania’s Masters in TESOL program. Her research experience includes contemplative and critical pedagogy.

xii Contributors Nathanael Rudolph is an associate professor of sociolinguistics and language education at Kindai University/近畿大学 located in Higashiosaka, Japan. Nathanael’s research interests include translingual practice, and critical approaches to language teacher and learner negotiations of being, becoming and belonging in and beyond the classroom. Dalia SeifAllah taught English and TOEFL at the American Language Institution at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. She is a PhD student in the Composition and Applied Linguistics program. Her research interests include antiracism, diversity, teaching pedagogies, and rhetorical listening. Parawati Siti Sondari is a teacher educator serving at the Pasundan teacher college in Indonesia. She participated in Fulbright programs as a Fulbright foreign language teaching assistant (FLTA) in 2009 and a Fulbright PhD grantee at Indiana University of Pennsylvania in 2018. Her interests encompass teacher identity, activity theory, and TESOL. Trisha Kelly Travers is a composition instructor at Penn State Abington and Montgomery County Community College. She is researching strategies for the composition classroom to help students recognize and reject misinformation and disinformation. She is currently pursuing a PhD in Composition and Applied Linguistics at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. Bedrettin Yazan is an associate professor in the Department of Bicultural-­ Bilingual Studies at the University of Texas at San Antonio. His research focuses on language teacher identity, collaboration between ESL and content teachers, language policy and planning, and World Englishes. Methodologically, he is interested in critical autoethnography, narrative inquiry, and qualitative case study.

Foreword Bedrettin Yazan The University of Texas at San Antonio

Nathanael Rudolph Kindai University/近畿大学

It is an absolute honor to have been chosen to provide a foreword for his very special volume, contributed to by a passionate, creative, and uniquely diverse array of teacher-­scholars. Our love, appreciation, and respect go to editors and authors Gloria Park, Sarah Bogdan, Madeleine Rosa, and Joseph Mark Navarro! We, Bedrettin and Nathanael, believe in the necessity and potential power of teachers and teacher educators listening to, learning from, and sharing with their students, and of drawing upon students’ identities, knowledge, skills, and experiences, in order to attend to their negotiations of being, becoming, and belonging in their classrooms and the community(ies) in which they live, work, and study. Teachers, teacher educators, and students would engage in contextualized, sociohistorically situated interaction with each other and with, for example, transdisciplinary scholarship, voices (past and present) in their community(ies) and the material world, while practicing critical reflexivity, in order to interrogate what frames their (and others’) seeing in terms of approaches to theorization, inquiry, and practice. And this would give shape to classroom contents and experiences. It would involve both problematizing and engaging in meaning-­making, and the valuing of alternate forms of knowledge-­building that would inform practice and learning within and beyond the classroom. Additionally, when working toward transforming

xiv Foreword communal spaces and the classrooms they are situated in, we assert that a key goal is not to exclusively problematize and tear down, but to also innovate and build, while wrestling with the past, in the present, looking to “the future.” We say these things, aligned with the spirit of Paulo Freire’s life work, and the conceptual framework giving shape to this volume. Indeed, the contents of the current volume seek to put these ideas into practice! We feel it is important to emphasize that criticality is not a homogeneous domain, though some strongly contend for and patrol the bounds of critical doing, being, and knowing. In saying this, we are referring to ontological, axiological, and epistemological variation, which in turn gives shape to diverse approaches to theory, inquiry, and practice; to what people problematize, and how and why. We also note that people very often conceptualize and approach criticality, and life in general, in seemingly contradictory ways, with and without reason and design. If we understand (and make peace with) this contradictory and conflictual nature of our identities when reflecting on the relationship between our experience and being, we can open spaces in which we feel comfortable critiquing our own criticality. Our classrooms and communities are also, of course, characterized by diversity and complexity. We teacher-­scholars are therefore collectively challenged to reflect upon whether we are imposing frameworks for seeing, inscribed with assumptions regarding identity, life, purpose, experience and (in)equity upon communities, and telling students who they “are,” and “can” and/or “should” be or become, both within and transcending the classroom, implicitly and/or explicitly. This does not mean that we are stripping ourselves and/or others of voice or forcing ourselves and others to condone and/or advocate for things that do not align with our critical sense of “(social) justice.” Rather, it means we are prioritizing dialogue. We, Bedrettin and Nathanael, have been friends and professional colleagues for several years. We hail from different linguistic, sociocultural, socioeconomic, ethnic, religious, and geographic backgrounds, and each possess our own unique lived experiences. We also share many things in common, including our identities as border crossers, our love for each other, and our heart for service in our communities and classrooms. Since studying together at the University of Maryland, College Park, our lives have followed divergent trajectories, with Bedrettin currently in Texas serving undergraduate and graduate students as a university-­based language teacher educator and Nathanael living and working in western Japan as a university-­level teacher-­scholar with undergraduates and, at times, with graduate students. Yet we have maintained an iron-­sharpening-­iron relationship, both personally and professionally. We discuss our lived experiences negotiating translinguistic and transcultural identities within and transcending the communities in which we are based. We are fortunate to be able to share pieces of our

Foreword  xv lives with each other, involving everything from the mundane to the sacred. Though we may not necessarily share the same worldview, and views of things such as the nature and purpose of life, our relationship is grounded in our desire to listen, dialogue, reflect, and grow. Professionally, we alternate between being mentors and mentees, discussing our professional spaces and corresponding communities. While these conversations can (and should) be contextually and sociohistorically situated, there is much to glean from such dialogue. We are prompted toward self-­reflexivity and inspired to revisit our research and teaching. Gloria (Park) has also been an integral part of our professional journey, and we count her as a beloved friend. She has served as a shining example of humility, transparency, wisdom, and service to us and many of our contemporaries. This is inscribed in the present volume and its path coming to fruition. We feel the same influence and connection to editors and authors Sarah, Madeleine, and Joseph, and to the other contributors to the volume, both because they are part of Gloria’s life trajectory and because we have engaged with and reflected upon the contents of this volume, as they have all hoped and intended. Understanding learners’ and teachers’ agency and how it relates to identity is also key to actualizing critical pedagogy in the language classroom. As teacher-­scholars better realize how they are concomitantly marginalized and privileged in complex and fluid ways at the porous layers of micro, meso, and macro dynamics in their context, they can feel more empowered to assert their agency to devise and innovate equitable teaching practices for all their learners. The editors and contributors in this volume capitalize, to varying extents, on that understanding to support teachers and learners in their efforts to claim ownership of their language use and problematize the ideologies that attempt to shape language use, teaching, and learning in their context. They aim to position teacher-­scholars as critical ethnographers who are committed to affecting the social change in their communities and beyond in order to pursue a socially just society. In their research-­ based and pedagogical chapters, editors and contributors report on and imagine teacher-­ scholars approaching the relationship between research and practice critically. In addition to following the critical research literature, teacher-­ scholars are expected to engage in research to study their own teaching and students’ learning to conduct micro-­level theorization to further sharpen their criticality. The initial 12 chapters of the volume exemplify the ways in which teacher-­scholars with diverse backgrounds and identities engage in studying their own use of critically oriented pedagogical practices in their classroom. Those studies are followed by 11 practice-­ focused chapters offering “Activities, strategies, examples from teacher-­ scholars,” which also include further selected readings to accompany the activity. Organized in ways that classroom teachers and teacher educators can adapt to their own curricula and educational contexts, the

xvi Foreword activities focus on learners’ and teachers’ self-­ reflexivity and co-­ construction of knowledge. As such, teachers can make the relationship between identities and surrounding ideologies a central point of discussion and open up cracks to subvert the oppressive discourses and practices that impact language use, learning, and teaching. Thereby, the volume responds to the clarion calls for making identity a principal component in language teaching and teacher education classes. In this exemplary collection, diverse scholars, settings and worldviews, united by a common desire: The editors and authors seek to empower teacher-­scholars (pre-­and in-­service; practicing) to reflect on their own identities, knowledge, skills, and lived experiences, and approaches to theorization, inquiry and practice, and to address “-isms” in communities and language teacher training and education therein, in the interest of serving students and other stakeholders in language education, and the community at large. Throughout the book, they powerfully illustrate how this empowerment can become actualized in the classroom, which, we believe, will resonate with the reader.

Introduction How It All Began Gloria Park

The seeds for this edited collection were planted when I was introduced to the work of Paulo Freire’s (1970) Pedagogy of the Oppressed in 2000 during my doctoral education at the University of Maryland, College Park. Throughout my doctoral education, I struggled to understand the theory to practice connection, specifically how praxis and conscientization can be part of the classroom practice. Part of this struggle was largely on the need to bring about more transparency and inclusivity as part of dialogic relationship between university researchers and classroom teachers. To this end, when I began my tenure-track position at Indiana University of Pennsylvania in 2008, I had two interconnected goals: (1) Mentor emerging teacher-scholars (pre-/in-service teachers who became graduate students) to connect theory to practice; and (2) Secure opportunities for emerging teacher-scholars to write for publication through engaging in professional development within and beyond the contexts of coursework. With this as a backdrop, I began to (re) conceptualize second language teaching and teacher education courses through a critical lens. In 2013, I restructured an existing Second Language Teaching course for MA-/PhD-level students to focus on how critical perspectives can enhance the understanding and exploration of second language teaching. More specifically, my goal was to provide an array of readings focused on critical pedagogy discussed and implemented in educational contexts. As such, I used The Critical Pedagogy Reader (2008) as an initial course text and supplemented with readings focused on critical pedagogy in second language teaching contexts. Given the rapid development within the contexts of higher education research and K-20 classrooms, it was important to bring in current readings focused on critical pedagogy theory and practice, but also important to create assignments and activities that would help everyone understand the classroom possibilities that are at the core of critical pedagogy. Given this as one of the major learning outcomes of the course, a major group assignment was to design a classroom activity using one or more critical-pedagogyrelated concepts from the readings assigned in the course. This assignment DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-1

2  Gloria Park was part of a small group work (2–3 worked together throughout the semester), which led to a compilation of activities, assignments, and further readings included in Chapters 13–23. I was given the opportunity to teach this course a handful of times between 2013 and 2019, and starting in summer 2019 due to retirements and exits, the course was taught consistently by me. During the period spanning summer 2019 to fall 2021, the authored chapters as well as the classroom activities were designed by emerging teacher-scholars, who teach at institutions while working toward their degree program at another institution. Each time I taught the course, I had new insights gained from my course students (aka teacher-scholars), which allowed me to understand the complexities and contradictions that are at the core of our identities as teacher-scholars. And in fall 2020, I was able to bring together a group of graduate research assistants to work with me to bring this edited collection to fruition. I learned a great deal from working with Sarah Bogdan, Madeleine Rosa, and Joseph Mark Navarro. I learned to be open to being a human before I was allowed to be a professor. Their patience and collaborative engagement helped me to be more open to collaborative authorship and what that would entail. I came to better understand that the collaboration and co-editorial work takes a lot of patience and resilience because more often than not, collaborative writing project is challenging and success can only come with likeminded individuals working toward one goal. To this end, I am grateful to have met and be mentored by my emerging teacher-scholars, and this edited volume would not be possible without the dedication and commitment made by my co-editors—Bogdan, Rosa, and Navarro. In addition to the work of co-editors, chapter authors spent many hours making requested revisions and edits of their chapters. In what follows, I provide a brief summary of Chapters 1–12 followed by a discussion of emerging themes from the activities, assignments, and further readings included in Chapters 13–23. Chapter 1, authored by Sarah Bogdan, explores the relationship between school and community. Bogdan argues that language instructors in the field of TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) must account for “non-standard” uses of the English language and heritage languages. They must also consider context and build connections between the learner, learning institution, and the home community they’re teaching in in order to meet the needs of their multilingual students. Using the work of scholars promoting translanguaging in school–community relationships, Bogdan argues that these approaches through the critical pedagogy lens can enhance empowerment and agency on the part of language learners. To this end, Bogdan’s chapter explores the ways in which critical pedagogues in language education programs value community involvement and affirm their students’ diverse language practices.

Introduction  3 Chapters 2 (Kevin Lamkins), 3 (Joseph Mark Navarro), and 4 (Corinne Alice Nulton) illustrate the concept of critical pedagogy on the modern higher education landscape, specifically in both two-year (Lamkins) and four-year institutions (Navarro & Nulton) of higher learning. Lamkins’ chapter examines an urban community college in Connecticut and its 12-college system. It demonstrates how negative effects of neoliberalism shown in the scholarship manifest themselves in this open-enrollment context. His chapter also demonstrates how critical pedagogy provides practices to resist the oppressive forces of neoliberal higher education. Navarro’s chapter explores the definition of critical pedagogy in firstyear writing in the form of a literacy narrative that explores the three readings of Pedagogy of the Oppressed over the course of the ten-year period of the author’s teacher-scholar training with an emphasis on several critical incidents that assisted with contextualizing the reading. His chapter concludes with a reflection on Freire’s work in relation to the idea of conscientization as a foundation of critical pedagogy in first-year writing courses, and the issue of epistemological racism in post-secondary education. Nulton’s chapter begins with a powerful discussion of the pervasive nature of racism in higher education and the racist history of remedial English classes. With this as a background, Nulton discusses policies that (1) prevent multilingual retention from being tracked, (2) expel students for needing more than two attempts to pass their first composition course, and (3) hold multilingual students to a nativespeaker standard in order to pass remedial English, and finally, (4) force multilingual learners into academic probation, which costs them their federal financial aid. Finally, the author concludes with possible solutions focusing on an effort-based grading contract. Through the chapters authored by Lamkins, Navarro, and Nulton, we come to reframe an important idea of critical pedagogy, which is that the learner becomes the educator and the educator becomes the learner; this dialectical relationship is critical in understanding the core of critical pedagogical practice. This dialectical relationship is accomplished through the dismantling of the authoritarian method of direct instruction known as “banking.” Banking is countered through the emphasis of personal inquiry developed through dialogue. The educator is a student of the community they instruct within. The educator looks to the students to understand their educational needs. Then, the educator and learner enter into dialogue about the need and the obstacles in the world that prevent the need. Once the dialogue has begun to investigate the stakeholders, issues, and fault lines, the educators and learners undertake self-reflexive investigative practices to map and document their process. In fostering agency within the educator and learner paradigm, Madeleine Rosa (Chapter 5) and Madison Price (Chapter 6) explore the concept of contemplative pedagogy through the lens of critical pedagogy. Rosa states that the purpose of contemplative creative writing is to

4  Gloria Park allow students to create their own classroom practices that they can carry with them after being in a course that uses it, so that they can continue to use their curiosity to name the world for themselves. Through mindfulness practices, this pedagogical practice helps to reduce stress and anxiety in the classroom while exploring the students’ language acquisition in real time. Rosa emphasizes a vital factor in critical pedagogy, which is guiding students to use reflective thinking and their education as part of their lived experiences. Connected to contemplative creative writing, in Chapter 6, Price proposes a pedagogy that argues for educators to incorporate creative writing into TESOL classrooms. Creative writing cannot be deposited onto students, encourages a relationship between language and student, is personal, and will enforce learning in a fun and individual way to the student. Both Rosa and Price privilege self-reflexive modality of writing, including the creative and narrative modes of exploring identity, which ultimately zooms in on fostering learner and teacher agency. Rosa and Price explore a variety of sites, with an emphasis on multilingual classrooms providing space to understand and explore contemplative ideas activate the critical consciousness of the learning community. In Chapter 7 (Jonelle Dongilla), the author implores classroom teachers to develop personalized learning practices in order to support multilingual students in primary and secondary education contexts. Dongilla argues that Personalized Learning (PL) is a powerful tool for fostering agency and autonomy in learners, which speaks back to the “banking model” of education. The relation between the tenets of PL and critical pedagogy are marked by learner-centeredness, community, dialogue, autonomy, and inquiry. The author reflects on her role as a rural middle and high school ESOL1 teacher who uses PL in her classroom. She emphasizes that Differentiated Instruction is something the best-intentioned teacher chooses for her students, whereas PL fosters agency and autonomy, paving the way for lifelong learners. In Chapter 8 (Marina Palenyy), the author zooms in on one charter school in New York City. Palenyy argues that charter schools often claim to operate as mechanisms toward social change, as they focus on failed schools, marginalized populations, and students coming from low socioeconomic levels; the mission for many charter schools is to provide an equitable education and to pave the way for students to enter the college of their choice. As such, many charter networks seek to zealously produce standardized test scores such as the SAT and the ACT resolving to achieve that mission. The author asks, can critical pedagogy live within the harsh constraints of the test-prep culture? The author argues that it must instead be rooted within a redefining of literacy as we know it, let alone the measurement of that literacy, and a praxis that puts the student at the center of learning.

Introduction  5 Chapter 9 (Alan Chan) and Chapter 10 (Ramata Diallo) bring forth global perspectives, specifically Macau, China, and French West Africa, in promoting critical pedagogy in the classroom, respectively. In Chapter 9, Chan argues for a hybrid approach bringing together place-based and problem-posing education. His chapter explores the praxis of placebased education and problem-posing education in the context of Macau, China. At the center of this work is the argument that the merging of these two forms of praxis overlap with critical pedagogy by creating a student-centered learning environment where personal inquiry is fostered. In Chapter 10, Diallo explores critical pedagogy in the context of French West Africa. The section provides a number of interventions, including, but not limited to, the negotiated syllabus, problem-posing strategies, and micro-strategies to maximize learning opportunities. In both chapters, the level of analysis focuses on the imperialistic nature of English and its accompanying educational framework to look beyond the traditional borders of English instruction. This is a comfortable endeavor for critical pedagogy because it naturally occupies any space that might provide a critical-liberatory experience for involved classroom teachers. In Chapter 11 (Marcela Hebbard), the author explores the realities of COVID-19 pandemic–driven writing classroom. With the goal of assisting language instructors new to online settings in college programs, the author offers suggestions on how to use writing from a rhetorical perspective to make online classrooms more inclusive. To this end, Hebbard draws on Principles for Online Writing Instruction (OWI), critical language pedagogy, and the author’s own experiences as a teacher of sociolinguistics and first-year college composition courses. Finally, in Chapter 12 (Megan E. Heise), the author shares her critical autoethnography as a symbol of hope, critical hope offering a praxisoriented means of countering a climate of cynicism and transforming critical pedagogues’ ways of being and relating with students. Heise considers the pedagogy of critical hope as an antidote for the darkness of the times, and, in particular, situated in the context of faculty retrenchments in one graduate degree program at a mid-sized US university. The author further argues that the pedagogical practices of radical mentorship and embodied emotionality among faculty and students at this university both led to and were further reinforced by collective action in solidarity with retrenched faculty members. More powerfully, Heise asserts that these enactments of the core tenets of critical hope prefigure transformation, both in the local struggle against retrenchment and in the broader struggle against neoliberal practices in US universities. In many ways, Heise’s chapter is a powerful rendition of how critical pedagogy in general and critical hope in particular can come to fruition as an embodiment of critical transformation in the higher education landscape.

6  Gloria Park In these 12 chapters, we can see the realizations, insights, and struggles that come with working to champion our students from diverse educational spheres. As emerging teacher-scholars working to create a safe learning community to engage in inclusive and equitable pedagogical practices, the co-editors and I look to the work of Paulo Freire and his supporters to better understand how privilege and marginalization continue to coexist in our lives. Our commitment, resilience, and continuous fight against “-isms” pervasive in our society become our weapon in realizing the diversity, equity, and inclusion in our learning and teaching communities. The 12 chapters are followed by Chapters 13–23, which focus on activities, assignments, pre-activity readings, and further readings. While the primary audience of this co-edited collection is individuals (emerging teacher-scholars) matriculated in TESOL/Applied Linguistics teacher preparation programs around the world, much of what is presented can be modified for other audiences in the global contexts. As such, Chapter 13–23 detail learning outcomes, rationale, selected preactivity readings, outline of activities designed by teacher-scholars. There is also room for some reflections. Overall, these activity chapters include selected readings that can be supplemented with other materials and/or related readings. It’s important to be mindful about creating a space to discuss the readings, raising challenging questions about the concepts discussed in each reading, and probing deeper into concepts represented in each of the readings. Discussion of the readings and engaging in reflective writing about the readings, specifically how the contents of the readings intersect with the lived experiences of the audience, are crucial in promoting criticality in teacher-scholars’ teacher identities. What is presented in each chapter are possible ways to prepare for the activities, which can be extended to longer assignments. While each chapter is a stand-alone activity and related readings and reflections, there are some emerging themes across Chapters 13–23. I discuss these briefly below: One of the thematic areas is to focus on self-reflexivity, creativity, and mindfulness, which suggests teacher-scholars teaching in various educational spaces to use student-centered creativity in the pursuit of the coconstruction of knowledge. With these activities as a guide and bringing others applicable for their own students and classroom, classroom teachers can open up conversations with students to identify their best learning practices, community engagement, and identity exploration. These activities seek to challenge the banking methods of education starting with the outside knowledge that students bring to the classroom and can teach them through raising their critical consciousness. Another theme is understanding the concept of student-centered learning in the K-12 classroom through dialogic practice. We hope that with these activities in hand, the audience is able to distinguish how

Introduction  7 dialogic practices do not simply focus on the words that the participants are saying; rather, they focus on the manner in which they say them, the silences that they use, and the impact of their words on their surroundings. These activities are constructive to the co-creation of knowledge within the K-12 setting as they reflect on cultural diversity and its visibility within the classroom. Through dialogic exploration, we urge students and instructors to practice self-reflexivity to see how inspiration for praxis might emerge from their day-to-day activities. Another theme focuses on identifying and challenging the hegemonic identities of more traditional educational practices. A core feature of critical pedagogy is the dialogic relationships between the educator and learner as they continuously develop the learning community. We hope with these activities in hand, educators can take steps toward dismantling oppressive higher education policies and procedures at a grassroots level. The activities are designed to foster agency within the pedagogical practices of the educator as well as to foster agency through the emerging academic process of the learner. The activities work at a local level to dismantle monolingual practices that marginalize multilingual writers. Additionally, these activities seek to leverage both educator and learner identities in order to challenge traditional modes of instruction that are rooted in banking and other unidirectional instructional practices. The next emerging theme is utilizing a self-reflexive modality to support both educator and learner agency. Instructors can equip their students with the resources available on their campuses to labor toward a student-centered classroom environment. In this environment, they will explore the role of identity by using the resources available to them to assist in developing an inclusive learning community where together they can practice self-reflexivity. With this tool in hand, students can investigate pedagogical theory and develop their own concept-to-practice understandings. The final theme is learner and teacher awareness of linguistic variation to continue to challenge the native and non-native dichotomy. Promoting this awareness of linguistic variations in educational contexts breaks the mold of linguistic purism. Because English is a global language, there are variations that students will encounter both in and out of classroom settings. These activities guide students as they analyze and respond to various language scenarios, demonstrate language awareness used by teachers in practical scenarios, and discuss classroom discourse effects. Through this exploration, students will work collaboratively to construct a new understanding of global and cross-cultural awareness. We hope with these activities, teachers can incorporate lessons that raise awareness to the linguistic diversities and language variations throughout their communities.

8  Gloria Park While these are the themes we focused on, we are certain that once the audience dives into this edited collection, you will find additional themes and use your resources and creativity to build on additional activities and assignments for your educational contexts. We look forward to working on this endeavor with you in the years to come.

Note 1 ESOL—English to Speakers of Other Languages. This title has recently replaced “ESL Teacher” in P-12 schools in rural Pennsylvania.

1 Transforming Language Education How Instructors Incorporate Translanguaging and Critical Pedagogy in Community Schools Sarah Bogdan Introduction According to the Institute of International Education, the number of international students in the States reached a record high in 2019 (IIE, www.iie.org). Open Doors 2019 attributes this to the growing interest in international exchange programs, coupled with the “continued competitiveness of the U.S. higher education sector as a destination of choice for international students” (IIE, 2019). Additionally, over a million people immigrate to the United States every year, which further affects the demographics of US classrooms (Budiman, 2020). With the demand for English as a global language and the increasing number of international students and children of immigrants studying English, classrooms in the United States are characterized by diversity and linguistic heterogeneity (Dennihy, 2017; IIE; 2019; Mahboob, 2017). Language instructors in the field of TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) must account for “non-standard” uses of the English language and heritage languages. Many scholars are advocating for multilingual-friendly approaches to education, such as translanguaging pedagogy (Canagarajah, 2015; Horner et al., 2019; Vogel & García, 2017), which will be elaborated upon later. Furthermore, no student learns in a vacuum and no school exists outside of the influence of its community. Where resources permit, some language instructors employ pedagogy that both validates each student’s voice and encourages the student’s family and community to engage with the school. This is especially relevant in school neighborhoods with high populations of immigrant families, where students may act as language brokers and translators on a regular basis, so their actual language practices might not be consistent with the expectations placed on them by traditional classrooms. Critical pedagogy (Freire, 1998, 2017; Kubota & Miller, 2017) provides the impetus for validating students’ diverse language practices and naming them as active agents within their community and society. This chapter

DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-2

10  Sarah Bogdan presents a review of the literature focused on critical pedagogy and translanguaging theory. The author will explore the interconnections between translanguaging and the critical pedagogy framework, and will discuss community schools or school programs that emphasize engagement with the community. The ensuing review of empirical studies provides insights for understanding the following questions: •

How do language instructors act as critical pedagogues in community schooling programs? • How do instructors incorporate translanguaging in their pedagogy? • What else can critical pedagogues do to encourage their students’ translanguaging practices and to bridge the gaps between school and community?

Connecting the Core Concepts: Critical Pedagogy, Translanguaging, and Community Schooling Critical Pedagogy French essayist Joseph Joubert once said, “To teach is to learn twice.” This concept of teachers as learners reflects a core tenet of critical pedagogy—that teachers and students are co-constructors of knowledge and that the classroom should model democracy, rather than emulating a one-way flow of information. This democratic approach to education questions traditional hierarchies and names students as active agents within their institutional contexts. There is some debate in the field about what constitutes criticality and critical pedagogy, but it is generally agreed that it includes recognizing and rectifying oppression, prioritizing social justice, raising awareness of power relations, transforming the hierarchical relationship between students and teachers, valuing students’ voices and experiences, and praxis (Freire, 1998, 2017; Gitlin & Ingerski, 2018; Katz, 2014; Kaufmann, 2010; Kubota & Miller, 2017). There are many different theorists who contribute to the origins and core beliefs in critical pedagogy, but this chapter relies mainly on Freirean critical pedagogy (as it relates to language education in context). Freirean critical pedagogy reflects the work of Paulo Freire, a Brazilian critical literacy educator, also known as the father of critical pedagogy. Freire criticizes the traditional model of education: “Narration (with the teacher as narrator) leads the students to memorize mechanically the narrated content. Worse yet, it turns them into ‘containers,’ into ‘receptacles’ to be ‘filled’ by the teacher” (2017, pp. 44–45). He describes this as the “banking” concept of education, in which students are merely recipients for the teacher’s deposits of knowledge (p. 45). Combatting this model, he proposes “problem-posing education,” a dialogical approach. Freire states:

Transforming Language Education  11 Through dialogue, the teacher-of-the-students and the students-ofthe-teacher cease to exist and a new term emerges: teacher-student with students-teachers. The teacher is no longer merely the-onewho-teaches, but one who is himself taught in dialogue with the students, who in turn while being taught also teach. They become jointly responsible for a process in which all grow. (2017, p. 53) According to Freire, then, critical pedagogy entails a growing process for both “students” and “teachers.” It makes space for students to ask questions, reflect, discover, create, and enact social change. “Critical pedagogues” here refers to instructors whose views align with theorists like Freire and who wish to foster classroom environments that challenge the banking concept of education. There are critical pedagogues or aspiring critical pedagogues in all fields of education, but this chapter focuses on language instructors working with multilingual students, especially those who incorporate translanguaging pedagogy, and especially those who work in community schools, or who otherwise prioritize school–community relationships. A Critical Take on Translanguaging Translanguaging emerged as a theory that rejects the notion that languages are distinct, separate, or compartmentalized systems, proposing instead that the boundaries between “standard,” named languages are blurred. Translanguaging also proposes that when speakers use a language or language variety, they are pulling different features from within their linguistic repertoire (Canagarajah, 2017; Vogel & García, 2017). This repertoire can be conceptualized as a toolkit for languages; according to Vogel and García, each speaker has a singular “unitary linguistic repertoire” with which they integrate various skills or multimodal features and “linguistic features in addition to social practices” (2017, pp. 4–5). Translanguaging (and translanguaging as a pedagogical approach) validates accents, dialects, and varieties of languages that may not be recognized or acceptable within traditional approaches to language education (Canagarajah, 2006; Horner et al., 2011). For example, translanguaging pedagogy questions the hierarchies between “standard,” “proper” English and other Englishes or languages, including different regional dialects, vernaculars like Black English Vernacular (BEV), “academic” versus “non-academic” language, and variations between language used on the Internet versus face-to-face (Hornberger & Link, 2012). Translanguaging can also be used as a verb to refer to the act of communicating with diverse features from one’s linguistic repertoire, often adjusting one’s language for the sake of various contexts. This is also referred to as code-meshing (Canagarajah, 2011) and might manifest itself in writing; for example, a student might choose to use both Chinese and English in their work.

12  Sarah Bogdan Translanguaging is situated within translingualism as a theory of language, or what is also referred to as the translingual approach (to writing or teaching, and so on). The translingual approach acknowledges that multilingual students are constantly translanguaging, even if it is subconscious or not recognized or encouraged by their instructors (García, 2011; Gort, 2017). Although the translingual approach is still an evolving theory, it is crucial for language instruction because it “grants students agency and responsibility for language as the emerging outcome of their writing practices, with language difference thus an inevitability rather than a choice” (Horner et al., 2019, p. 2). The translingual approach, and subsequently translanguaging and translanguaging pedagogy, challenge traditional monolingual assumptions about language. This includes the assumption that languages are discrete systems that exist independently of one another in one’s mind, and that languages should be taught separately (e.g., L2 should be learned in only L2). The concept of translanguaging combats monolingual ideology, linguistic purism, and the myth of Standard English because it validates language differences and language fluidity (Canagarajah, 2015; Horner et al., 2011; Horner et al., 2019). In this perspective, monolingual ideology and monolingual teaching strategies are similar to Freire’s idea of the banking method of education because in monolingualism, students’ individual experiences, lives, backgrounds, and language varieties are not valued; they are expected only to absorb the (Standard) English conventions that are conveyed to them by the instructor. Thus, a combination of critical pedagogy and translanguaging pedagogy can be employed in language education programs around the globe to combat the banking model of education as well as monolingual ideology. Additionally, language programs should foster school–community relationships, since (a) the goal of critical pedagogy is to enact change within society, which necessitates community connections, and (b) literacy practices such as translanguaging are now often viewed as sociocultural practices meant to help speakers thrive within their social spheres (Mills, 2016). Why Community Schooling Programs? Community schools consist of a partnership between a school and its community, including the community members and/or community resources (Little, n.d.). Generally, these schools emphasize real-world application for students’ learning, rather than simply high-stakes testing or practices that are confined to the school as a physical institution. Community schools value the involvement of students’ parents, sometimes through volunteer work or after-school programs; they can highlight locally valued cultures through after-school activities and artsbased services (Little, n.d.). These schools also integrate academics with health and social services to meet their students’ needs. The United

Transforming Language Education  13 States currently has over 5,000 community schools, and that the number is growing—in New York City, the number of community schools went from 100 in 2016 to 247 in 2019 (Teachers College, 2019). According to the New York City Department of Education, the number of community schools in the city stands at 317 as of 2022 (Figure 1.1) (NYC Community Schools 2022). This increase in community schools suggests that the US educational landscape is shifting to prioritize making the institution work for its context, not the other way around. This is especially promising for underprivileged students and racial and linguistic minority students who may not receive the support they need in traditional school systems. However, instructors do not necessarily need to be working in a “community school” to draw connections between their students’ learning and the students’ home and community life. Language instructors can use materials that incorporate locally valued languages and cultures in the classroom (BakerBell, 2020; Bartolomé, 2010; Leeman et al., 2011; Nuske, 2017), and they can engage with parents or advocate for school-wide activities or afterschool programs that may influence policy change in their institution. For instance, Preston (2013) examines the importance of community involvement in school and finds that community partnership is beneficial for students’ success. She finds that social relationships within a “bedroom community” (a commuter town or residential suburb where everyone commutes to local school or work) influence the community’s involvement with school (Preston, p. 413). Preston defines “community involvement in school” as “any student-focused school–community connection that directly or indirectly supports the students’ physical, social, emotional, and intellectual needs” (p. 416). This includes parent involvement but also collaboration between student family members and any prominent community members: “field trips, parent or community volunteers and guest speakers in school,” attending events, fundraisers, “service-learning activities, adult classes organized within the school,” and other activities, like after-school programs (p. 416). In her Canadabased study, Preston found that the bonding of social capital/social networking increased community involvement in school (p. 413). For example, opportunities to volunteer led to stronger school–community and parent–teacher relationships, which led to more involvement; parents were also motivated to get involved in their school based off their children’s interests (pp. 423–425). This implies that language instructors, like every instructor, must constantly bear in mind their pedagogical contexts and foster any blooming community–school relationships to meet the needs of their students, especially multilingual students and those living within marginalized communities. Another example of school–community partnership is seen in Leeman et al.’s article, “Critical Pedagogy Beyond the Classroom Walls: Community Service-learning and Spanish Heritage Language Education,”

14  Sarah Bogdan

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Transforming Language Education  15 which will be expanded upon in the following section. Leeman et al. (2011) describe their after-school program in Virginia in which college students taught Spanish to “young heritage language (HL) speakers” (p. 1). Their program combined critical pedagogy and anti-monolingual language pedagogy with a “community service-learning” approach to school, with the goal to “[structure] the program so that students would work actively with community partners and [ensure] that the project would become a collaborative effort in social activism” (p. 6). The program included Spanish “literary lunches” with collaboration between school staff and students, after-school language enrichment classes, and invitations for the parents to join class activities, give lectures on Spanish language and culture, and continue the students’ lessons at home (pp. 8–10). This community service-learning is a prime example of a school program that blurs the perceived boundaries between the classroom and the community and between education and social activism. So far, this review of the literature has situated the concepts of critical pedagogy, translanguaging theory, and community schools within the US educational landscape and language education programs today. In conjunction, these concepts prioritize meeting the students where they are and acknowledging that their personal lives and background knowledge play a role in their learning process. The remainder of this chapter focuses on specific ways in which language instructors incorporate these concepts in their classrooms.

Bridging Theory and Practice: Making It Work for the Students Many real-world classroom scenarios portray the potential for combining critical pedagogy, translanguaging pedagogy, and community involvement. For example, Cervantes-Soon and Carrillo (2016) examine the ways their Latina students used translanguaging and engaged in critical discourse to deconstruct local political issues that were of personal interest to them. They describe their pedagogy as “border pedagogy,” which focuses on the physical spaces of border regions as well as prominent linguistic and racial ideologies, and the critical approach students could take to become social activists in their community (CervantesSoon & Carrillo, 2016). This approach gives students space to share and reflect on their lived experiences and also to strengthen their identities as multilingual speakers. Similarly, Alvarez (2014) focuses on language brokering as a community-based function of translanguaging practices. He studies ten Mexican immigrant families in New York City who are part of MANOS, a small grassroots education mentoring program, in which they offered after-school tutoring for free and promoted relationships between families and school (Alvarez, 2014, p. 328). Alvarez finds that because of the prevalence of bilingualism and emerging bilingualism in the local Mexican families, students were often tasked with

16  Sarah Bogdan language brokering for their family members through acts of translation and translanguaging. This language and literacy brokering is often heavy emotional work (Mihut, 2014), but it is significant work within communities and families that can be supported by critical pedagogues and translanguaging pedagogy. Other studies showcase how language instructors use community service and student-teacher pedagogy. In their article, Leeman et al. (2011) stress the critical aspect of their Spanish language program and how it aligned with Freirean critical pedagogy: …our reform sought to bring students’ home and community knowledges and experiences in from the margins and to integrate the language, language practices and cultural production of U.S. Spanish speakers in an effort to “reclaim the local” (Canagarajah, 2005) and resist the language subordination of Spanish in relation to English. (Leeman et al., 2011, p. 3) The program was localized, meaning it valued the immediate knowledge and experiences of the students within their local context, rather than blanketing lessons with general materials that may not always be relatable to students. By using this firsthand knowledge of local values, language instructors can more effectively connect with their students and avoid ethnocentric assumptions about what materials will be practical or of interest to the students (Alvarez, 2017; Nuske, 2017). From student reflections, these authors found that the local home languages and language varieties carried strong emotional weight for the student–teachers in the program: yo creo que todos los niños prefieren escribir y hablar de las leyendas y especialmente las leyendas que sus padres han compartido con ellos. Entonces, en [nombre de la escuela], los niños también quieren que nosotros incorporemos las leyendas y las historias nacionales en las lecciones que enseñamos. [I believe that all children prefer to write and speak about legends and especially those legends that their parents have shared with them. So, at [school name], the children also want us to incorporate legends and national stories into the lessons we teach.] (Leeman et al., p. 11) Other reflections portrayed similar sentiments, implying that most of the students and student-teachers engaged more deeply with the class when the materials were connected to their culture and family experiences. Leeman et al. also describe the goals of the after-school program as to “foster students’ development of identities as ‘legitimate’ (as opposed to deficient) speakers of Spanish, and build university-community

Transforming Language Education  17 partnerships while simultaneously working to effect language-related social change in the community” (p. 1). Multilingual language learners often internalize the notion that their spoken language variety is inferior to the “norm,” but programs like Leeman et al.’s can challenge these ideologies and validate students’ linguistic identities (p. 1). One way to promote critical pedagogy in community schools, and subsequently foster students’ translanguaging practices, is through technology. Gitlin and Ingerski (2018) argue that technology offers a route for introducing critical pedagogy in public schools, where it is otherwise usually resisted. Technology can provide spaces for student-led discussions and students’ co-creation of knowledge. For example, instructors might encourage their students to create blogs or wiki-type forums where they collaborate and share ideas. This approach sets a precedent for problem-posing education, as students are collaborating and engaging in dialogue, and the authorship of their work is decentered (Gitlin & Ingerski, p. 12). Technology in education can also bring marginalized students from the outskirts of the conversation into the middle, aligning with translanguaging theory’s goal of de-marginalization; linguistically (or culturally or racially) marginalized students already use technology on their smartphones to “[challenge] formal language structure in verbal and symbol shortcuts” (Lenhart, Arafeh, Smith, & Macgill, 2008, qtd. in Gitlin & Ingerski, 2018). Although the authors do not name translanguaging pedagogy in their article, their concept of technological “spaces” in which marginalized students engage with ideas, both at school and at home, provides an ideal space for students to challenge language norms through translanguaging practices. Multimodal coursework can foster the relationships between the instructor, the learner, and the learner’s home life and community. Blog and wiki assignments are opportunities to engage parents with students’ learning because parents can help their students with blogging at home, especially with writing topics that involve heritage language, heritage culture, or familial experiences. These technological spaces can “become the foundation for a community–school relationship” (Gitlin & Ingerski, p. 11). Gitlin and Ingerski also bring up the potential for technology to neutralize power relationships in educational meetings, such as parent– teacher conferences: …classes and parents can be brought together daily if desired. This virtual space does not require one group to come to the space of the “others” and can allow parents and teachers to assess and inform teaching and learning. Not only can teachers gain an understanding of students from parents, but, more important [sic], they can collaborate to produce more complex understandings of students and innovative ways to learn that are personalized to the wants and needs of the student. This virtual space brings the community

18  Sarah Bogdan understandings and teacher understanding together in ways much in line with critical pedagogy’s focus on dialogical approaches to evaluation where both groups work together to understand teaching. (p. 17) Although one might argue that these meetings are not truly neutral, they are deterritorialized, as they occur in virtual space. These virtual spaces can facilitate instructor–student dialogue, peer-to-peer collaboration, and instructor–parent communication about the students’ needs. There are many examples of multilingual students engaging with course material and engaging with their community through technology. In a 2018 case study, one university professor in Michigan describes the “mobile literacies” practices of Yisi, a Chinese international student (Fraiberg, 2018). This student practiced translanguaging across the Internet as a way to build her social networks, or, as Fraiberg refers to them, “knotworks” of literacy (p. 160). During her studies, she frequently used social media platforms such as WeChat to communicate with her Chinese contacts and get assistance with her writing projects. These practices of digital literacies helped her build 关系网, guanxi wang: “network of connections,” which is highly important for navigating society in Chinese culture (Fraiberg, p. 161). Similarly, in his Taco Literacies class in the US South, Alvarez observed his students exploring the rhetoric of immigrant literacy, citizenship, and Mexican food culture on Instagram (2017). They used hashtags like #MexKy and #tacoliteracy to archive their own posts, explore related posts, and share the growing niche to the public (Alvarez, 2017, p. 155). Instagram became the students’ way of connecting with the community, as they learned about the local immigrant population, food literacy, and even local small businesses, which they were then able to support. In general, technology provides a space for multilingual students’ translanguaging practices because digital literacies are an optimal medium for stretching the boundaries of language conventions (Mills, 2016; Vogel & García, 2017; You, 2016). Technology can also encourage school–community cohesion as it provides a deterritorialized space for communication (Fraiberg, 2018; Gitlin & Ingerski, 2018; Lam, 2013).

Moving Forward Students should develop a view of their educational experiences as inextricably connected to their society, community, and home life. Just as education is not politically neutral (Freire, 2017), it does not occur in a vacuum. Programs and pedagogical practices that incorporate the surrounding community can help students see the real-world applications for their learning. This is happening more and more in community schools in the United States. However, as previously mentioned, language

Transforming Language Education  19 instructors do not need to already be situated within a “community school” context in order to enact social change within their local school– community dynamics. As critical pedagogues, language instructors must take advantage of the means that are available to them and advocate for change where they can. Instructors might join with colleagues or parents to start after-school activities in their local contexts, and they could promote student-led dialogue and student–teacher reflectivity to model case studies such as Leeman et al.’s in Virginia. In language programs such as bilingual programs or classes with multilingual students, instructors can involve the students’ home life by asking them to speak or write about their personal experiences, heritage language/language variety, and family culture. To integrate translanguaging pedagogy, Alvarez suggests that instructors incorporate students’ ethnography and autoethnography, such as by compiling notes on translanguaging practices that occur in their household; additionally, he encourages teachers to “accept that language minority parents are co-teachers of their children” (i.e., acknowledge parents’ involvement and give more detailed homework instructions or report card comments) (2014, p. 329). Another takeaway for critical pedagogues in language education is the importance of demystifying linguistic concepts and embracing the potential for diversity within translanguaging pedagogy. In order for students to grow in confidence in their linguistic identity and enact social change wherever they are situated, they need to fully understand the ideologies embedded in their education. This means clearly explaining concepts like monolingualism, monolingual ideology, Standard English, translingualism, and translanguaging within the context of the lesson. Language instructors can incorporate inquiry assignments so that students can critically examine ideologies, including monolingual ideology (Leeman et al., 2011, p. 1). For example, critical pedagogues might ask their students to give examples of this ideology they have encountered in the media, or in conversations, or in previous classes, then ask open-ended questions so students can reflect on the material and relate it back to the real world. To embrace the ever-evolving potential for translanguaging pedagogy, instructors should make use of diverse venues for learning, including in multimodalities; technology offers a wide range of opportunities for student co-creation of knowledge (Gitlin & Ingerski, 2018; Leeman et al., 2011) and experimentation with translanguaging. Instructors can experiment with assigning student collaborative blogging, forum-writing, and archiving and sharing their topics of interest on social media platforms. Critical pedagogues might also encourage social media activism as a way for students to explore multimodalities and engage with the community. Future research might continue to explore the ways in which students perform translanguaging across social media platforms, and how this might be used to help bridge the gap between the school and the community.

20  Sarah Bogdan

References Alvarez, S. (2014). Translanguaging Tareas: Emergent Bilingual Youth as Language Brokers for Homework in Immigrant Families. Language Arts, 91(5), 326–339. http://www.jstor.org/stable/24575544 Alvarez, S. (2017). Taco Literacy: Public Advocacy and Mexican Food in the U.S. Nuevo South. Composition Studies, 45(2), 151–166. Baker-Bell, A. (2020). Linguistic Justice: Black Language, Literacy, Identity, and Pedagogy. Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781315147383 Bartolomé, L. (2010). Preparing to Teach Newcomer Students: The Significance of Critical Pedagogy and the Study of Ideology in Teacher Education. National Society for the Study of Education, 109(2), 505–526. https://doi.org/10.1177 %2F016146811011201410 Budiman, A. (2020). Key Findings about U.S. Immigrants. Pew Research. https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2020/08/20/key-findings-aboutu-s-immigrants/ Canagarajah, S. (Ed.) (2005). Reclaiming the Local in Language Policy and Practice. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Canagarajah, S. (2006). The Place of World Englishes in Composition: Pluralization Continued. College Composition and Communication, 57(4), 586– 619. http://www.jstor.org/stable/20456910 Canagarajah, S. (2011). Codemeshing in Academic Writing: Identifying Teachable Strategies of Translanguaging. The Modern Language Journal, 95(3), 401–417. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1540-4781.2011.01207.x Canagarajah, S. (2015). Clarifying the Relationship between Translingual Practice and L2 Writing: Addressing Learner Identities. Applied Linguistics Review, 6(4), 415–440. https://doi.org/10.1515/applirev-2015-0020 Canagarajah, S. (2017.) Translingual Practice as Spatial Repertoires: Expanding the Paradigm beyond Structuralist Orientations. Applied Linguistics, 39(1), 31– 54. https://doi.org/10.1093/applin/amx041 Cervantes-Soon, C., & Carrillo, J. (2016). Toward a Pedagogy of Border Thinking: Building on Latin@ Students’ Subaltern Knowledge. The High School Journal, 99(4), 282–301. https://doi.org/10.1353/hsj.2016.0016 Dennihy, M. (2017). Beyond English: Linguistic Diversity in the College English Classroom. MELUS, 42(4), 192–212. https://www.jstor.org/stable/26566095 Fraiberg, S. (2018). From Activity to Mobility Systems: Tracing Multilingual Literacies on the Move. In S. Fraiberg (Ed.), Transnational Writing Education (pp. 157–169). Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781351205955-9 Freire, P. (1998). Pedagogy of Freedom: Ethics, Democracy, and Civic Courage. Lanham, Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers. Freire, P. (2017). Pedagogy of the Oppressed. London, England: Penguin Books. García, O. (with Makar, C., Starcevic, M., & Terry, A.) (2011). Translanguaging of Latino Kindergarteners. In K. Potowski & J. Rothman (Eds.), Bilingual youth: Spanish in English speaking societies (pp. 33–55). Amsterdam: John Benjamins. https://doi.org/10.1075/sibil.42.05gar Gitlin, A., & Ingerski, J. (2018). Rewriting Critical Pedagogy for Public Schools: Technological Possibilities. International Journal of Critical Pedagogy, 9(1), 7–28. Gort, M. (Ed.). (2017). The complex and dynamic languaging practices of emergent bilinguals: Translanguaging across diverse education and community contexts. New York: Taylor & Francis.

Transforming Language Education  21 Hornberger, N. & Link, H. (2012). Translanguaging and Transnational Literacies in Multilingual Classrooms: A Biliteracy Lens. International Journal of Bilingual Education and Bilingualism, 15(3). https://doi.org/10.1080/13670050.2012.658016 Horner, B., Lu, M.-Z., Royster, J. J., & Trimbur, J. (2011). Language Difference in Writing: Toward a Translingual Approach. Faculty Scholarship, 67. https:// ir.library.louisville.edu/faculty/67 Horner, B., Cousins, E. Y., Hilberg, J., Jackson, N. C., Rodriguez, R., & Way, A. (2019). Translingual Approaches to Writing and its Teaching. WPA-CompPile Research Bibliographies, 28, 1–36. https://wac.colostate.edu/docs/comppile/ wpa/TranslingualApproaches.pdf IIE (2019). “Number of International Students in the United States Hits AllTime High.” The Power of International Education, www.iie.org/Why-IIE/ Announcements/2019/11/Number-of-International-Students-in-the-UnitedStates-Hits-All-Time-High Katz, L. (2014). Teachers’ Reflections on Critical Pedagogy in the Classroom. InterActions: UCLA Journal of Education and Information Studies, 10(2). https:// doi.org/10.5070/D4102017865 Kaufmann, J. (2010). The Practice of Dialogue in Critical Pedagogy. Adult Education Quarterly, 60(5), 456–476. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F0741713610 363021 Kubota, R., & Miller, E. (2017). Re-examining and Re-envisioning Criticality in Language Studies: Theories and Praxis. Critical Inquiry in Language Studies, 1–29. https://doi.org/10.1080/15427587.2017.1290500 Lam, W. (2013). Multilingual Practices in Transnational Digital Contexts. TESOL Quarterly, 47(4), 820–825. https://doi.org/10.1002/tesq.132 Leeman, J., Rabin, L., & Roman-Mendoza, E. (2011). Critical Pedagogy Beyond the Classroom Walls: Community Service-learning and Spanish Heritage Language Education. Heritage Language Journal, 8(3). https://doi.org/10.46538/hlj.8.3.1 Little, P. (n.d.). School-Community Learning Partnerships: Essential to Expanded Learning Success. Retrieved March 03, 2021, from https:// www.expandinglearning.org/expandingminds/article/school-communitylearning-partnerships-essential-expanded-learning-success Mahboob, A. (2017). Understanding Language Variation: Implications of the NNEST lens for TESOL Teacher Education Programs. In J. de Dios Martinez Aguda (Ed.), Native and non-native teachers in English language classrooms: Professional Challenges and teacher education (pp. 13–32). Boston, MA: De Gruyter Mouton. https://doi.org/10.1515/9781501504143-002 Mihut, L. (2014). Literacy Brokers and the Emotional Work of Mediation. LiCS, 2(1), 57–79. https://doi.org/10.21623/1.2.1.4 Mills, K. (2016). Literacy theories for the digital age: Social, critical, multimodal, spatial, material and sensory lenses. Multilingual Matters. https://doi.org/10.21832/9781783094639 Nuske, K. (2017). “I Mean I’m Kind of Discriminating My Own People:” A Chinese TESOL Graduate Student’s Shifting Perceptions of China English. TESOL Quarterly, 52(2), 360–390. https://doi.org/10.1002/tesq.404 NYC Community Schools. (2022). https://www.schools.nyc.gov/learning/ programs/community-schools Preston, J. (2013). Community Involvement in School: Social Relationships in a Bedroom Community. Canadian Journal of Education / Revue Canadienne De L’éducation, 36(3), 413–437. http://www.jstor.org/stable/canajeducrevucan.36.3.413

22  Sarah Bogdan Teachers College, Columbia University. (2019). Op-ed on Success of Community Schools Cites TC’s Public Matters Survey. https://www.tc.columbia.edu/ articles/2019/january/op-ed-on-success-of-community-schools-cites-tcs-publicmatters-survey/ Vogel, S., & García, O. (2017). Translanguaging. In G. Noblit & L. Moll (Eds.), Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Education. Oxford: Oxford University Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780190264093.013.181 You, X. (2016). Cosmopolitan English and Transliteracy. Carbondale: Southern Illinois UP. https://doi.org/10.1080/15348458.2018.1464921

2 It Can Happen Here Neoliberalism at the Community College and How Critical Pedagogy Can Resist It Kevin Lamkins Introduction This chapter identifies several prominent effects of neoliberalism in higher education. I reflect on how they connect to one institution with which I am familiar, Tidal River Community College (a pseudonym). It is my hope that the readers can begin to think more deeply about how these and other effects of neoliberalism manifest at their institutions. I then offer critical pedagogy as one way to remedy or resist these oppressive situations through classroom practice. I am a white, middle-class male professor. Raised in a predominantly white suburb, I moved to one of CT’s major urban centers for college and became immersed in social justice work in the city. This was a crash course in my own privilege and the realities of oppressive neoliberal systems in the United States.

Definitions and Teaching Context Neoliberalism is an ideology of free market capitalism, deregulation of industries and environmental restrictions, exploitative access to labor and resources in poor countries, open trade, and austerity. Neoliberalism’s proponents work to end government-sponsored social safety nets, including public investment in schools, health care, and Social Security. Neoliberal education fixates on swift completion, homogenized approaches, and job placement (for more on the intersection of neoliberalism and higher education, see Lamos, 2012; Sullivan, 2015). Critical pedagogy derives from Paulo Freire’s (1981) Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Freire identifies the banking concept of education: teachers deposit knowledge into students. This oppressive approach maintains teacher as subject and students as objects of education. In contrast, critical pedagogy seeks to empower students as subjects of their learning. Teachers are not authoritarian sources of all knowledge but rather teach and are taught alongside their students, a process of problem-posing dialogue. Students are co-creators of knowledge. Through critical DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-3

24  Kevin Lamkins consciousness and praxis, students learn about systems of power and oppression. With reflection, they can fight for justice in and out of the classroom. My home institution is a two-year community urban open-enrollment college in Connecticut. With around 3,500 students, Tidal River Community College (TRCC) is a Hispanic Serving Institution (HSI) with about 50 countries represented in the student body. It’s also over 30% Black/African American, with many students from the West Indies. The population is over 70% women. Average age is 29. Most students (approx. 80%) attend part-time because of work and family responsibilities. Most students (approx. 80%) also place into at least one developmental course (English and/or math, often both). This urban area is one of the poorest cities in the nation within one of the wealthiest states. Austerity has led the community college system to pursue a massive consolidation, ostensibly to save money. The Board of Regents (BOR) for the Connecticut State Colleges and Universities (CSCU) plans to make 12 colleges into one huge college with 12 branch campuses by 2023. Despite widespread opposition from faculty and staff, the BOR is steamrolling ahead with changes. Implications for local control, the differences between populations, infrastructure, and needs at the individual schools are unaddressed in this plan. It drastically increases the layers of management, which will further separate rank-and-file employees and students from decision-makers (see Figure 2.1). College presidents have been replaced with CEOs. New managerial positions include associate deans, vice presidents, provosts, assistant provosts, three regional presidents, and a one-college president. Faculty department chairs will be replaced by associate deans—non-teaching, unelected, non-union positions. Meanwhile, the colleges rely heavily on part-time instructors. Faculty are pressured to increase class sizes, to do more with fewer resources, and to get students through to graduation as quickly as possible. Ironically, the consolidation plan is called “Students First” (24 Community College Supporters, 2020).

Effects of Neoliberalism on Students Below I survey significant ways that neoliberalism has affected higher education. While the research presented here is primarily about four-year institutions, I show how these effects are present in my community college. Whose Interests? One theme in the literature concerns whose interests are considered in neoliberal higher education. In a critique of method as a colonial construct, Kumaravadivelu (2003) unpacks four dimensions which are interrelated and contribute to the marginality of English learners in

It Can Happen Here  25

Figure 2.1  An organizational chart showing the five levels of management in the new Connecticut community college hierarchy.

26  Kevin Lamkins other countries. They are scholastic, linguistic, cultural, and economic. This marginalization asserts the interests of the English teachers, the colonizers, over the interests of the local population, the English learners. Western colonial countries taught English in the service of their own purposes. For instance, Kumaravadivelu tells of the practice “to produce clerks to run the colonial system” (Pennycook, 1989, cited in Kumaravadivelu, 2003, p. 541). Among the four dimensions, cultural is particularly troubling: The overall objective of culture teaching, then, is to help L2 learners develop the ability to use the target language in appropriate ways for the specific purpose of culturally empathizing, if not culturally assimilating, with native speakers of English. In such a scenario, the individual voice and the cultural identity of the L2 learner stand hopelessly marginalized. (p. 543) As an inner-city school, TRCC attracts many students from marginalized groups, from poor and working-class backgrounds, some with food and housing insecurity, who struggle to make ends meet. Therefore, a major impetus to attend college is economics. The promise of economic security is one major way my college and others attract students from marginalized populations. Though my students may not be educated to literally run the colonial system, as Kumaravadivelu mentions, the US system attempts to educate marginalized groups enough to keep them out of trouble: high school education for low-wage service jobs, a slightly higher tier for graduates with associate degrees. If a student of mine graduates and gets a degree in accounting, she will be markedly better off than as a cashier at Wal-Mart, but she will still be mostly stuck at that level without additional schooling. But she will (probably) make enough to stay out of the welfare system. US capitalism, which, as Kumaravadivelu points out, is essentially neocolonialism, creates a permanent underclass which maintains white, English-language dominance and socioeconomic hierarchy. The aims of a colonial England and a neocolonial United States are not that different. In fact, Kumaravadivelu states, Tollefson (1986) reports that the US maintains a covert policy to ensure that immigrants in the US refugee camps in countries like Thailand, the Philippines, and Indonesia learn just enough English before migrating to the US to perform minimum-wage jobs to avoid welfare dependency, but not enough to move beyond these levels. (p. 541) This approach seems to have permeated school districts and higher education institutions of marginalized groups.

It Can Happen Here  27 Saviorism and Sentimentality The theme of interests relates to the concept of saviorism. Jenks and Lee (2019) discuss the sentiments of native English speakers (NES) teaching in Korea upon learning that budget cuts will cause many of them to lose their jobs. The reactions range from sentimental to sarcastic to overtly racist, sometimes all at once. Much of the NES’ ire targets nonnative English speaker (NNES) teachers and Korean students. Saviorism emerges in several ways. First, the NES teachers believe that they are more qualified to teach English because it’s their native language. This is what the authors call “native speaker saviorism.” NES teachers express how poorly the Korean English learners will do without them. One teacher writes, “…those who simply speak basic English may possibly be at an economic disadvantage, thus pressuring more people to become fluent, which requires us” (Jenks & Lee, 2019, p. 11). Another writes, “Most of my students can’t afford to go to a private school. My co-teachers have been okay to pretty good, but without me, the students would never have progressed as far as they have” (Jenks & Lee, 2019, p. 11). These passages embed another element that can contribute to saviorism, sentimentality. Expressions of sympathy for the learners may seem well intentioned, but they do not justify the belief that English language learners need to be saved. As Kumaravadivelu (2003) points out, there is power in keeping native speakers (NES) out of the English learning process. Nativizing, putting local people in charge of teaching English, is a step toward decolonizing the language. Nativization pushes out the authority of Western interests over English language teaching and re-establishes agency within the local communities. While many of the NES teachers in Korea seemed to genuinely care about their students learning English, this could not be separated from their self-interest (keeping their jobs) and the perceived superiority of NES, not to mention the lack of empathy they showed for the budget cuts. TRCC has a large non-native speaker population and many who speak non-dominant varieties of English. The dynamics described above are at play. White teachers, and even those who may not be white but enforce white, dominant “standard” English practices, fall into traps of sentimentality and saviorism. TRCC’s ESL program, for instance, employs an English-only approach where use of students’ native languages is discouraged. Some teachers across the college still fixate on error correction to produce “good” writing, which, as Sondra Perl (1979), Patrick Hartwell (1985), and others point out, can be harmful to writing. This grammar-centric view of writing is reinforced by faculty outside of English who regularly complain that students “can’t write,” which really means they don’t write grammatically perfect prose. These practices push aside students’ ideas, their production of knowledge, in what contributes to white language supremacy (Inoue, 2019) and encourages saviorism.

28  Kevin Lamkins They also assert faculty interests above student interests. I admit that one of my motivations to teach at TRCC was because I wanted to help people who I saw as underserved in education. Though well intentioned, this is saviorism. My journey away from saviorism is part of what brought me to critical pedagogy and my role in helping my students discover and pursue their own interests. Neoliberalism and Epistemology Neoliberalism raises concerns over who creates knowledge. Kubota (2019) discusses multiple ways that dominant oppressive ideologies create knowledge in academia. A consequence of this is that women and non-Euro-American scholars are often compelled to participate in a system that devalues their contributions to knowledge and reinforces the dominant epistemology: “This form of racism works as epistemological hegemony, compelling non-Euro-American people of color to adopt these white assumptions as legitimate knowledge” (p. 7). She shows how epistemological racism mingles with institutional and individual racism. Kubota suggests the culpability of publishers who may avoid publishing books with foreign-sounding editors because of the perception that they will not sell. Epistemological racism extends beyond the United States. Other countries adopt white-Euro-centric knowledge. Kubota notes the psychological effects on people of color, likening it to W.E.B. Dubois’ “double consciousness.” Subsequently, like scholars, students of color may not see themselves represented in course materials. For example, while I give my students diverse readings, the textbooks I use paint a different picture. Even as these mostly white authors put together diverse collections, they are the ones creating the teaching methods for reading and writing, the literature questions, the glossaries of terms, the resources for further study, etc. Kincheloe (2004) addresses epistemology in the context of teacher education. He advocates a meta-epistemological perspective that looks at sources of knowledge in complex ways that may include experiential, empirical, and many others. However, many neoliberal schools still follow a very technical view of instruction as “a set of skills –not a body of knowledges” (p. 52). Kincheloe asserts that teaching is epistemological first and foremost. Yet there is continued focus on skills which causes our schools to be “epistemologically bankrupt.” Alienation and (Self-)Marginalization Neoliberalism begets alienation. For Kumaravadivelu, it manifests in marginalization of non-dominant groups. Marginalization happens when the knowledge of dominant groups is valued over other knowledge. He writes, “part of the (neo)colonial agenda is precisely to render

It Can Happen Here  29 local knowledge invisible and inaccessible thereby making the periphery communities continue to depend on the center for documented knowledge-base” (p. 547). Teachers in neoliberal institutions who use the banking method to teach pre-packaged curriculum where student voices are not part of the conversation send a strong message of marginalization. This happens in many subject areas at my college. Teachers in disciplines where writing seems essential for student knowledge creation and inclusion, such as the social sciences, often default to PowerPoint presentations and Scantron tests. Only a handful of full-time faculty at TRCC outside of the Humanities actively include substantive writing in their classes. Kumaravadivelu also discusses self-marginalization. He writes, “members of the dominated group, knowingly or unknowingly, legitimize the characteristics of inferiority attributed to them by the dominating group” (p. 547). This manifests at my school in much the way Kumaravadivelu describes, through a preference for native speakers or speakers of the dominant variety of English. One example involves my English faculty colleague from India. She has a pronounced Indian inflection to her voice. Many students shy away from her classes or complain about her “accent.” Remember, most of TRCC’s students come from minoritized groups, for example, non-native English backgrounds and users of nondominant varieties of English such as Jamaican patois and AfricanAmerican Vernacular English (AAVE). Still, many of these students see my colleague’s English as problematic even as their own Englishes could be marginalized the same way. These students have self-marginalized. They have internalized their own languages as inferior. Mott et al. (2015) argue that alienation is one of the major effects of neoliberal higher education. Their analysis includes the alienation of faculty and staff in addition to students. Larger class sizes, more contingent and part-time faculty, increased faculty workloads, the push toward more online learning, and, as we’ve seen in other sources, the domination of white Euro-American (and Mott et al. add heteronormative) ideologies drive this alienation. They write, …students are taught in the neoliberal university how to be “globally oriented state subjects” [Mitchell (2003) cited in Mott et al.] who are governable, patriotic, and entrepreneurial in the context of capitalist globalization. It is in this context of neoliberalizing education that alienation – from one another, from the joy of learning, from creative interventions in the world – fosters indifference in students. (Russo, 2004) (p. 1275) Importantly, the authors note the alienation from the “joy of learning” and “creative interventions in the world,” not just from other students,

30  Kevin Lamkins from teachers and staff. The fixation with such mentalities as “learn to earn,” common at my college, does not encourage curious and creative learners. It encourages students as consumers. For my students, this sometimes shows up in the “do we really need to know this?” or “will I ever use this in real life?” kinds of questions. It also can lead students in English to assimilate the assumption that grammar correctness is “good writing.”

Critical Pedagogy as an Ideological Approach to Combat Neoliberalism Critical pedagogy offers teachers a framework through which to resist neoliberalism at our schools. Here, I highlight some effective examples. Education and Activism Bajaj (2014) connects peace education and critical pedagogy. Peace education emerged out of a desire to address the triangle of violence: direct, structural, and cultural. To connect courses to students’ interests, she says teachers should incorporate internships, fieldwork, and other praxis with organizations and in areas students are already involved with. Bajaj describes three cases that apply peace education. One is with the Dalit community (formerly referred to as “untouchables”) in India. She shows how Dalit people are taught to value themselves and freedom and investigate social situations that led to the caste system. This counteracts the structural and cultural violence imposed upon Dalit people. Bajaj notes other examples such as the Zapatistas in Mexico, and the Freedom Schools of the US civil rights movement. Like the Dalit, critical peace education can help bring marginalized students’ interests into the classroom, letting them use their own experiences and encouraging them to be actors against oppressive neoliberal forces. Carrie Mott, Sandra Zupan, Anne-Marie Debbane, and R.L. (2015) each present a vignette of critical pedagogy strategies as direct resistance to neoliberalization in higher education. Debbane’s story relates to student interests. Debbane incorporated the 2012 student strike in Quebec in a course. The protests were in response to a 75% increase in tuition, a result of neoliberalization. Several things emerged from this. First, Debbane’s own students, who at a public university no doubt have experienced tuition increases, were able to see how their experiences were shared by others. Also, the Quebec protest highlighted that tuition costs are situated in political and economic contexts. From this, her students were able to begin to see how their own educational realities are similarly situated. Finally, the Quebec protests showed students taking action to correct an oppressive system that had been imposed upon them, action in their own liberatory interests. Debbane’s students as a result began to

It Can Happen Here  31 draw their own conclusions about whose interests matter in the world of higher education. Before the Quebec example, most had just accepted tuition increases and student debt as normalized. After, frustrated by their own experiences, many students felt the need to act. Others at the very least developed critical consciousness toward public higher education. One student commented, I attend[ed] school simply to become a skilled worker, and learn what I need to do. I now realize that being a real student takes more than that. Our education should be inspiring us to be concerned with social change in the world. We should want more than just what’s in the textbooks - we need to look further. (cited in Mott et al., 2015, p. 1274) Students Creating Knowledge Within Mott et al.’s article, R.L. demonstrates a critical pedagogy approach to students as knowledge creators. She begins with a problem-posing question. In this example, it’s, “what is capitalism?” Over the course of the discussion, R.L. does several things that allow students to create an answer. First, she uses silence. She describes long pauses. These silences, while they can be awkward causing some teachers to fill in the spaces, are effective ways to put the ownership of knowledge creation onto the students. Second, she uses productive questioning to stimulate additional contributions. R.L. also affirms student contributions through her affect but also by scribing on the board as answers come in, not by judging or correcting students. Through this process, students create two sides of the board: what is capitalism and what is not capitalism. Now that students have dialogued their way to two sets of knowledge, she asks them difficult questions about how the two sides interact, such as “which side of the board do you want the environment on?” (p. 1267). The teacher does not proselytize, or try to fill the students’ heads with her views. She allows them to create knowledge which positions them to make their own critical judgments about an issue and its context. Another way for students to create knowledge in the classroom is through personal writing. Sharma (2015) writes about literacy narratives, specifically their functions within an increasingly globalized classroom. He shares how proponents of literacy narratives argue that such assignments develop epistemological agency. Students reflect on how they learned and may also identify sources of knowledge that are outside of formal instruction. Their writing also teaches classmates and teacher about how they learn, where knowledge comes from, and different values of literacy. For instance, American students may be surprised to find out that traditional African and Asian educational cultures

32  Kevin Lamkins are not as fixated on the individual. For Sharma, exposure to these diverse stories is useful in agentive and epistemological ways. He writes, “this assignment is also extremely useful as a means for helping them unpack cultural and epistemological assumptions, values, and beliefs inherent in both the previous and the new academic contexts” (p. 107). Literacy narratives have been a staple of TRCC’s writing curriculum for close to ten years. Sometimes, I have questioned whether the assignment was academic enough, or prepared students for text-based writing. In fact, it is a valuable way to honor students’ literacy journey and establish their epistemological role in the class. In the dehumanizing realm of neoliberalism, bringing in student voices and agency is a revolutionary act. Place-Based Remedies to Alienation McInerney et al. (2011) discuss place-based education (PBE) and its connections to critical pedagogy, which can be used to fight alienation and create student agency. They describe several examples with multiple benefits. By using place-based education, students felt more connected to their communities and their schools. What they learned in schools had practical application beyond the classroom. As a result, some students expressed pride for their school and their work in the community. Teachers positioned students as creators of knowledge, not as passive receivers of knowledge. McInerney et al. also reported examples of students taking ownership of place-based projects. They underscore the need for critical pedagogy guiding place-based education because without it “under-theorised (sic) and uncritical forms of PBE may sustain hegemonic curriculum by simply endorsing the status quo and leaving unchallenged community prejudices, inequitable practices and unfair structural arrangements” (p. 10). Thus, they advocate the examination of social, cultural, environmental, and historical dimensions when using PBE. At TRCC, we have a PBE initiative. It helps decrease student alienation in and out of the classroom. Though theaters, art and science museums, and historical sites are located close to campus, many students have never been to them. In fact, many have felt these places were not meant for them. When we bring students there, they start to see their connection to the sites. They start to envision their city differently. And sometimes they begin to question why they felt excluded from these places before. In Mott et al., Carrie Mott takes on one of the least student-centered characteristics of neoliberal higher education: large class sizes. The potential for student and teacher alienation is very high in such classrooms. Mott applies a simple technique that many teachers may not think of with larger classes (in her case 72 students). To establish

It Can Happen Here  33 community in the classroom, she set out to meet individually with each student. During the early part of the semester, she met with all but one student. Mott discussed many benefits of this process. As a teacher, she was able to see who the students really were. She learned that the student who left the class to take phone calls so often did so because of his business, how another student was a veteran and a mother, how one student had moved to Kentucky to escape a violent neighborhood. These individual stories helped combat her own alienation as a teacher, one that Mott cautions can lead to the cliché attitude from teachers that students don’t care, or they’re not interested in learning and therefore not worthy of the teacher’s attention. The meetings also diminished the students’ feelings of alienation. Several reported that they felt less intimidated after the meeting, even as Mott was also feeling intimidation from the size of the class. Another theme emerged: “many commented that this was the first time they had ever met with one of their instructors or professors and that they had never had an instructor or professor require students to meet with them” (p. 1270). My college is constantly talking about the need for more student-facing personnel such as fulltime faculty, advisers, and tutors. But these positions are not the priority in neoliberal institutions.

Moving Forward I have presented just a small sampling of ways critical pedagogy can resist the oppressive forces of neoliberal education. Among other implications of this research, I think there should be more research that overtly examines neoliberalism in higher education, especially more attention on community colleges. While community colleges are not the usual site of scholarship, they are sites of neoliberal practices like “workforce development,” “data-driven decision-making,” and “career pathways.” They are also incredibly diverse and home to many traditionally marginalized groups. These students in many ways look more like the future of the United States than typical four-year universities, universities where some of these students will eventually find themselves. I conclude with some questions for the reader. My hope is that you will use these questions and others as a basis for contributing to this necessary discussion. • How does neoliberalism manifest at your institution? • What is the level of faculty awareness? • What is being done in student-centered ways to combat this, for example, teaching approaches and techniques? Tutoring, advising models? Resources for students such as childcare, food and housing insecurity, opportunities for employment at school? • In what ways are you using critical pedagogy to combat neoliberalism?

34  Kevin Lamkins

References Bajaj, M. (2014). ‘Pedagogies of resistance’ and critical peace education praxis. Journal of Peace Education, 12(2), 154–166. https://doi-org.proxy-iup.klnpa.org /10.1080/17400201.2014.991914 Community College Supporters. (2020, July 30). It’s time to abandon the ‘Students First’ plan. CT Mirror, The Connecticut News Project, https://ctmirror.org/ category/ct-viewpoints/its-time-to-abandon-the-students-first-transition/ Freire, P. (1981). Pedagogy of the Oppressed. The Continuum Publishing Corporation. Hartwell, P. (1985). Grammar, grammars, and the teaching of grammar . College English, 47(2), 105–127. https://doi.org/10.2307/376562 Inoue, A. B. (2019). How do we language so people stop killing each other, or what do we do about white language supremacy? College Composition and Communication, 71(2), 352–369. https://proxy-iup.klnpa.org/login?url=https://www-proquestcom.proxy-iup.klnpa.org/scholarly-journals/how-do-we-language-sopeople-stop-killing-each/docview/2350468897/se-2?accountid=11652 Jenks, C. & Lee, W. L. (2019). Native speaker saviorism: A racialized teaching ideology. Critical Inquiry in Language Studies, 17(3), 165–205. https://doi.org/ 10.1080/15427587.2019.1664904 Kincheloe, J. L. (2004). The knowledges of teacher education: Developing a critical complex epistemology. Teacher Education Quarterly, 31(1), 49–66. https:// proxy-iup.klnpa.org/login?url=https://www-proquest-com.proxy-iup.klnpa. org/scholarly-journals/knowledges-teacher-education-developing-critical/ docview/222879639/se-2?accountid=11652 Kubota, R. (2019). Confronting epistemological racism, decolonizing scholarly knowledge: Race and gender in Applied Linguistics. Applied Linguistics, 41(5), 712–732. https://doi.org/10.1093/applin/amz033 Kumaravadivelu, B. (2003). A postmethod perspective on English language teaching. World Englishes, 22(4), 539–550. https://doi. org/10.1111/j.1467-971X.2003.00317.x Lamos, S. (2012). Minority-serving institutions, race-conscious “dwelling,” and possible futures for basic writing at predominantly white institutions. Journal of Basic Writing, 31(1), 4–35. https://proxy-iup.klnpa.org/login?url=https:// www-proquest-com.proxy-iup.klnpa.org/scholarly-journals/minority-servinginstitutions-race-conscious/docview/1353330900/se-2?accountid=11652 McInerney, P., Smyth, J., & Down, B. (2011). “Coming to a place near you?” The politics and possibilities of a critical pedagogy of place-based education. Asia-Pacific Journal of Teacher Education, 39(1), 3–16. https://doi-org.proxy-iup. klnpa.org/10.1080/1359866X.2010.540894 Mitchell, K. (2003). Educating the national citizen in neoliberal times: From the multicultural self to the strategic cosmopolitan. Transactions - Institute of British Geographers (1965), 28(4), 387–403. Mott, C., Zupan, S., Debbane, A-M., & R. L. (2015). Making space for critical pedagogy in the neoliberal university: Struggles and possibilities. ACME: An International Journal for Critical Geographies, 14(4), 1260–1282. https://www. acme-journal.org/index.php/acme/article/view/1296 Pennycook, A. (1989). The concept of method, interested knowledge and the politics of language teaching. TESOL Quarterly, 23(4), 589–618.

It Can Happen Here  35 Perl, S. (1979). The composing processes of unskilled college writers. Research in the Teaching of English, 13(4), 317–336. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40170774 Russo, R. (2004). Social justice as general education. Journal of Geography (Houston), 103(3), 102–110. Sharma, G. (2015). Cultural schemas and pedagogical uses of literacy narratives: A reflection on my journey with reading and writing. College Composition and Communication, 67(1), 104–110. https://proxy-iup.klnpa. org/login?url=https://www-proquest-com.proxy-iup.klnpa.org/scholarlyjournals/cultural-schemas-pedagogical-uses-literacy/docview/1707562381/ se-2?accountid=11652 Sullivan, P. (2015). “Ideas about human possibilities”: Connecticut’s PA 12-40 and basic writing in the era of neoliberalism. Journal of Basic Writing, 34(1), 44–80. https://proxy-iup.klnpa.org/login?url=https://www-proquest-com.proxy-iup. klnpa.org/scholarly-journals/ideas-about-human-possibilities-connecticutspa/docview/1850268115/se-2?accountid=11652 Tollefson, J. (1986). Functional competencies in the U.S. refugee program: Theoretical and practical problems. TESOL Quarterly, 20(4), 649–664.

3 Utopian Social Praxis in First-Year Writing Courses Reflections on Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed Joseph Mark Navarro Introduction The work of the critical pedagogue who instructs first-year writing courses for higher education is a sojourn into a process of never-ending discovery—it is an exploration of the unknown. There is a great deal of uncertainty that the critical pedagogue undertakes each day within their classroom, recognizing that this malleability is a challenge that will lead to greater discoveries. For this reason, there are often several critiques around its open and student-centered nature. Primarily, that critical pedagogy provides little structure for grammaticians, prescriptive instructors, and the learners conditioned by both. I would argue based on my readings of Freire that the emphasis on predetermined forms of thinking, reading, and writing is a process of dehumanization that accompanies the neoliberal framework of education, which is its capacity for developing the passive learner (Freire, 1985, p. 10). The first-year writing classroom within the neoliberal post-secondary institution provides an opportunity for a process of humanization that resists this codification of the human spirit. Critical pedagogy is a utopian social praxis. As such, it seeks to establish conscientization between the educator(s) and learner(s) in meeting the literacy goals of the community. This work is a literacy narrative that explores the experience of my emerging Latinx teacher-scholar identity through the experience of reading Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed at different levels of my training and academic development. The first reflection within this literacy narrative will explore Freire’s writings on Curiosity, Admiration, and the Radical Sense to Assume as building blocks for teacher-scholar development. The work will unpack these ideas through my initial experiences as a Latinx teacher-scholar at Florida A&M University, a Historic Black College and University, during my undergraduate studies. The second section explores ideas of Openness, Unfinishedness, and Autonomy for building a critical-dialectic for emerging teacher-scholars. This section will explore my experience as a Latinx teacher-scholar working toward the completion of my MFA at DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-4

Utopian Social Praxis in First-Year Writing Courses  37 Naropa University, one of the first Buddhist universities in the United States. The final reflection will explore Freire’s writings on Neutrality, Class Suicide, and Reflexive Literacy practices. The third reading was completed during the first year of my PhD program at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. It was completed alongside a deep reading of both of Freire’s works The Politics of Education and Pedagogy of Freedom. The literacy narrative will shift to a discussion on the practical implications and practices of conscientization, or what Freire refers to as the “archeology of consciousness” (1985, p. 15). Additionally, there will be a discussion on how critical pedagogy and conscientization are temporaneously contextualized through an anti-racist pedagogy. The work will conclude with an example of critical pedagogical praxis rooted in Freire’s conscientization.

First Reading—Curiosity, Admiration, and the Radical Sense to Assume My first reading of Pedagogy of the Oppressed was during my undergraduate studies. I had two separate encounters. In the initial reading, I found the text meandering through the Tallahassee Community College library. At the time, I had a curiosity for anything that spoke of human liberation—be it critical theory, literature, or pedagogy. In the first reading, I immediately found the idea of teacher-scholar as a space for liberation. Furthermore, there is a clear focus on working against structures and institutions that dehumanize educators and learners. These ideas would be further ingrained at Florida A&M University, where I would complete my BA in English. The program was small but rigorous; many of us had teaching as a career goal. A few of the professors spoke openly about Pedagogy of the Oppressed and Freire’s work as important readings for their development as educators. In the context of FAMU serving as a Historic Black College and University, there is a historic emphasis on Black Excellence, and the academic rigor of scholarship through community. I felt the HBCU to be a different learning environment than the “big-box universities” and Primarily White Institutions (PWI) that seem to be motivated by competition and economics. This environment developed a curiosity toward the intellectual faculties—almost a sense of admiration for what we were building as a community. Even those of us who were demographic minorities in the HBCU experienced and grew because of the institution’s historic work toward the construction of a better world through its community. I remember one of our core courses for the major was on grammar: think sentence diagrams for an entire semester. I still have the textbook; it is titled Understanding English Grammar by Kolln and Funk. With my bilingual upbringing, Spanish was a second language utilized among my parents and siblings. I felt confident in taking the course, but the

38  Joseph Mark Navarro communal anticipation of the cohort drew me into a shared sense of dread at the colonial construct of magnifying a sentence to such proportions and then analyzing concepts like a noun phrase. All of this to develop an awareness of a headword in relation to the determiner within a noun phrase. At the same time, we shared the load of the intellectual rigor, and our professor was humane with the implementation of the material. It was the first time that I began to investigate my own relationship with Spanish in relation to an authoritarian view of English. In a sense, this early learning experience removed “a focalized view” of the issue and allowed for us to engage the issue of this rigid and archaic aspect of our program “as dimensions of a totality” (Freire & Ramos, 2014, p.114). For Freire, this human curiosity is a “phenomenon present to all vital experience, is in a permanent process of social and historical construction and reconstruction” (p.114). It was in this context of rigorous study through community, guided by humane educators, that I was able to develop curiosity as my guide toward the admiration of what I am studying. Freire notes this self-reflexive process is “a rigorous methodological curiosity” of continuous transformation (1998, p.33). The learner provides the strength of their ingenuous knowledge, or “knowledge pulled from pure experience … socially constructed through communitarian praxis” (p.36). The learner is the frame of reference for the critical pedagogic space of teacher-scholar engagement. The educator pulls from both their ingenuous and epistemological curiosity, or knowledge through reflexive literacy practices to discover what one does not know and communicate what one has learned (p.35). Within the spaces of critical pedagogy, ethical formation and aesthetic appreciation is developed [between the educator and the community of learners] as people in and formed by a socio-historical context of relations, we become capable of comparing, evaluating, intervening, deciding, taking new directions, and thereby constituting ourselves as ethical beings. (p.38) Freire cites Alvaro Vieira Pinto’s “consciousness as method” when speaking of this co-intentional education as a “humanizing pedagogy (that) expresses consciousness of students themselves” (p.43). An important reflection in this first experience with Pedagogy of the Oppressed is Freire’s concept of developing a disposition for change (2014, p.44). This begins with the ability to think critically about the past and present in order to envision the future through “theoretical discourse” that is “concrete enough to be clearly identifiable with practice” (p.44). This process of emerging from ingenuous knowledge develops through two stages. First for the theoretical discourse, “its epistemological distance is from practice as an object of analysis ought to be compensated by an

Utopian Social Praxis in First-Year Writing Courses  39 even greater proximity to the object of analysis, in terms of lived experience” (p.44). The more we ground theoretical discourse in learner experience, “the greater is the gain in intelligence and the greater possibility of communicability in overcoming an ingenuous attitude toward knowledge” (p.44). Furthermore, this process is enriched when the learner(s) and educator(s) undertake reflexive literacy practices that allow for the acknowledgment of a personal “process and attitudes and (to) perceive the reasons behind these” for the purpose of transformation (p.44). This disposition for change creates space for the learner(s) to “imagine (themselves) as a subject in the process of becoming … and change of which (they are) not merely the victim but the subject” (p.44). This first section is composed of several readings of Pedagogy of the Oppressed unpacked through multiple educational environments with an attempt to code my experience. With each reading, what develops is an enrichment in understanding of the text through personal connection and historical awareness. Each time I reflect on a previous reading of Pedagogy of the Oppressed in the context of my practice as a teacher-scholar, I am rewriting my experience with the text as much as when I reread the text. This is a process of “decodifying representations of (my) existential situations and perceiving former perceptions … placing in doubt the opinion held of reality and replac(ing) it with a more and more critical knowledge” (Freire & Ramos, 2014, p.53). A process of admiration develops, or to stand before the “Not-I” and observe in order to understand its nature and impact on the world (p.53). Because the act of knowing is dynamic, “and no knowledge is ever complete,” one must not only admire, but readmire (p.53). In doing so, “we are simultaneously admiring the act of admiring and the object admired, so that we can overcome the errors we made in our former admiration. This readmiration leads us to a perception of an anterior perception” (p.53). These self-reflexive literacies of framing critical thinking through an awareness of the learner’s capacity for curiosity and admiration develop a sense of confidence that allows for the disposition of change to emerge. The result of this emergence toward change is a radical sense to assume (Freire, 1998, p.45). For Freire, this transitive verb that “can have as its object the person who assumes (themselves)” (p.45). I can assume the issue of A impacting me “just as much as I can assume myself (what I am) as the subject and object of that assumption” (p.45). When I say that issue A must cease to impact me, it is essential that I assume that the issue of A “constitutes a risk to my life … (and) that I have acquired a complete and clear picture of what (the issue of A) is and what its consequences are” (p.45). The radical sense to assume is a dynamic undertaking for the critical pedagogue “to make possible the conditions in which the learners, in their interaction with one another and with their teachers, engage in the experience of assuming themselves as social, historical, thinking, communicating, transformative, creative persons” (p.45).

40  Joseph Mark Navarro

Second Reading—Open, Unfinished, and Autonomous My second reading of Pedagogy of the Oppressed was during my MFA at Naropa University, which is a small, private, Buddhist university in Boulder, Colorado. This was a vastly different experience from that of my undergraduate studies, and my transnational upbringing. I was not used to studying, much less being in an absolute majority white-space, or a PWI. At the same time, my learner experience was a familiar process— one that emphasized intellectual rigor through community, the development of a beginner’s mind in terms of curiosity, and a deep focus in the sense of admiration for study were all present within the faculty, student body, and campus culture. It was the convergence of contemplative education and Freire’s work that allowed for me to see how as a teacherscholar I might “create possibilities for construction and production of knowledge” (1998, p.49). We read Freire in sections as a cohort during a summer writing program that was central to the MFA. The program featured writers, poets, novelists, artists from all walks of life and from around the world. We would spend four weeks in total, a week with a single teacher-scholar in a specialized workshop studying Pedagogy of the Oppressed or a critical idea based within various theoretical lenses. In a sense, this experience was a deconstruction of the work, a debating of Freire from every conceivable academic vantage point. This experience exposed me to how pervasive the “theory wars” of composition studies were intra-compositionally, interdepartmentally for English, and for all aspects of writing in academia. Furthermore, the view that there is not a concrete definition of critical pedagogy (Breuing, 2011, p.19). Or, there is a lack of definitions for ideas like empowerment, liberation, and social justice (Thomson-Bunn, 2014, p.3). Furthermore, that critical pedagogy uses ideas like democracy as tropes for modes of subjugation (Yoon, 2005, p.718). That critical pedagogy’s language exhibits a great deal of gender bias (Yoon, 2005, pp.732–735). That critical pedagogues suffer from content envy because of their literacy background (Fulkerson, 2005, p.663). And, that they lack a structured approach to teaching good writing (p.665). Finally, that Pedagogy of the Oppressed is unrelatable because of its subjective exploration of Brazilian rural peasants (Thomson-Bunn, 2014, p.4). These were some consistent criticisms of the work that I had not experienced in my first readings. To be honest, I still do not see from these vantage points, but I now understand where they are coming from. I would need to develop reflexive capabilities, ones that incorporated criticism as much as praise to develop my conscientization. This notion of holding competing ideas in one’s head is an important concept gained from this time—what William Blake referred to as “negative capability,” and W.E.B. DuBois would give psychosocial

Utopian Social Praxis in First-Year Writing Courses  41 context as “double consciousness”; and unbound Capitalism, or neoliberalism, would make painfully self-evident through consumerism’s development of cognitive bias and dissonance within the modern citizen. In reflecting on this time, I see what Freire means when he asks, “How can the oppressed, as divided, unauthentic beings, participate in developing the pedagogy of their liberation?” (2014, p.22). This is a movement toward the individual, because “pedagogy of the oppressed is a tool for critical discovery” (p.22). The critical pedagogue unveils reality, and in turn the learner(s) are invited to a “critical entrance into reality” where they become “consciously active … the more people unveil this challenging reality which is to be the object of their transforming action, the more critically they enter that reality” (p.27). This situated engagement with learning actions and behaviors is driven through reflection; it is “the conscious activation of the development of experience” through dialogue (p.27). This reflection is the “affective boundaries” of space that are “necessary for [the individual’s] survival, growth, and development” (Freire, 1998, p.52). This is the space of learning where “infrastructural support systems” are recognized through an awareness of self and an understanding of the conceptual language, that is, the capacity to ‘grasp’ consciously the implication that belonging to an infrastructure would inevitably endow them with the capacity to communicate a certain awe in the face of life itself, in the fact of its mystery. (p.52) The learner(s) reference and understand themselves in context to the “spacio-temporal infrastructure” developing an awareness of “the freedom to opt out” of this arrangement, and the development of a personal system of ethics (p.52). This ability to transform also implies a state of “unfinishedness of our being” (Freire, 1998, p.52). The power of being a human is the idea that there is uncertainty in our lives in that they are “not already given as certain, unequivocal, or irrevocable” (p.54). The future, for Freire, “is something to be constructed through trial and error rather than an inexorable vice that determines our actions” (p.54). This “inexorable vice” is banking, and it is a contradiction to the human experience where “the more the hands and the brain engaged in a sort of pact of solidarity, the more the support system (became) ‘world’, ‘life’, ‘existence’” (p.52). Freire asserts that throughout human evolution, the more “the human body became aware” of its ability to transform its world, “it ceased to be simply ‘empty’ space to be filled with contents” (p.53). In this sense, curiosity leading to knowledge temporalizes (p.56). The unfinished learner becomes “socio-historically” aware  of  that  which  conditions

42  Joseph Mark Navarro its situated experience, and is made aware of the ability to transform and create in the learner’s situated experience “…to go beyond it, which is the essential difference between conditioned and determined existence” (p.54). Destiny for the learner, then, “is not given but something that needs to be constructed and for which I (learner) assume responsibility (p.54). The educator(s) and learner(s), in recognizing their unfinishedness in time and space, develop an awareness that implies our insertion in a permanent process of search, motivated by a curiosity that surpasses the limits that are peculiar to the life phenomenon as such, becoming progressively the ground and foundation for the production of knowledge, for that curiosity is already knowledge. (Freire, 1998, p.56) It is this awareness of unfinishedness that makes us educatable in the exploration of “the ontological dimension of our human condition” (p.58). We learn that we are constantly in the process of becoming something new and different, and this allows for us to recognize where we were, with where we are in our lived experience. This is a knowledge that respects the autonomy of the learner (p.59). The ethical implication of the unfinished state implies a respect toward the agency of the learner, a dignity through community (p.59).

Third Reading—Neutrality, Class Suicide, and Reflexive Literacy Practices During the first year of my PhD program in Composition and Applied Linguistics at Indiana University of Pennsylvania, a few peers made a meme that was vicariously targeted at me. To the degree that after they continued to proliferate the meme, they made veiled excuses to universalize its context in order to obfuscate the original context. To their credit, when they realized I would not engage them in any way on this behavior, some began to relent in this alienating experience. There were no explicit racist overtones. The meme itself was innocuous; that is to say, the signifier was neutral if not silly. This allowed for them to pass it off as a harmless joke without the context of how it was developed. At the same time, I interpreted the act as a sleight denigration of my character as a critical pedagogue, which was rooted in a conversation that devalued my language and in turn abilities as an educator because of my critical pedagogical alignment. It was at once a “fun” gesture, and, in another sense, an attempt to marginalize. This experience is universal in the context of the United States in that I am a minority and they were all whiteidentifying. Freire writes,

Utopian Social Praxis in First-Year Writing Courses  43 My right to be angry presupposes that the historical experience in which I participate tomorrow is not given but a challenge and a problem. My just anger is grounded in any indignation in the face of the denial of the rights inherent in the very essence of the human condition. (1998, p.71) From the alienating experience, I use my anger to frame my teacherscholar identity. This Freirean critical pedagogy that I have outlined has two movements: First, we are sowing, planting, and tilling our fields with the foundational practices of utopia for all of civilization. Second, we understand very well that we will never reap the fruits of our labor—our work is for our children and the future generations. In order to become a critical pedagogue, it seems self-evident that one runs the risk of being labeled self-righteous to the point where their very character is mocked. Few would seek to take on this natural state of character assassination that accompanies the academy’s first-year writing programs engulfed in neoliberal pragmatism “with its implicit or openly expressed elitist authoritarianism” in the form of grammaticians and prescriptive educators (Freire, 1998, p.46). To the pragmatic and elitist educator they fail to see that education is something that (people) discovered experimentally, in the course of history, if it were clear to us that our capacity to teach arose from our capacity to learn, we would easily have understood the importance of informal experience. (p.47) The first challenge for the critical pedagogue is “to die, to speak, as the exclusive educator of learners…” and, in turn, “the educator must propose to learners that they die as the exclusive learners of educators so they are can be reborn as real learners—educators of the self-educator and self-learner” (Freire, 1985, p.105). This is the immense responsibility of the critical pedagogue, “the formational nature of this art and practice tells us already how the teacher should exercise this responsibility” (Freire, 1998, p.63). The learner(s) are always fully aware of the educator(s) presence, “the worst of which could be to conclude that the teacher’s presence is an ‘absence’” (p.63). In this process, the critical pedagogue models an ethics of autonomy in the assertion of their nonneutrality and absolute demand for the respect of dissenting, democratic voices (p.68). As an equal “subject and object in the historical process,” it is impossible to be neutral, “no one can be in the world, with the world, and with others and maintain a posture of neutrality … (one) cannot be in the world decontextualized, simply observing life” (p.73). What develops in this death and rebirth of the traditional student-teacher

44  Joseph Mark Navarro hierarchy is a teacher-scholar paradigm that is a coherently democratic authority based on a resistance to the “greed and unbridled lust for giving orders”—for a space of generosity (p.86). The coherently democratic authority is “founded on the certainty and on the importance both of itself and of the freedom of the students, will never minimize freedom and yet will be dedicated to the construction of genuine discipline” (Freire, 1998, p.86). In this sense, the critical pedagogue recognizes that the discipline is not in the silence of the learner, “but in the stirrings of those who have been challenged, in doubt of those who have been prodded, and in the hopes of those who have been awakened” (p.86). This is the great challenge of the critical pedagogue that seeks a democratic-minded learning space: “how to transmit a sense of limit that can be ethically integrated by freedom itself. The more consciously freedom assumes its necessary limits, the more authority it has, ethically speaking, to continue to struggle in its own name” (p.96). The learners become aware that seemingly unchangeable power dynamics can be reconstituted and transformed through the dialectical interrelation of concrete and abstract analysis of power dynamics in the “act of reflection” (Freire & Ramos, 2014, p.78). This is an act of class suicide; the educator in first-year writing with advanced degrees must “die as the elitist” to enter into communion with the community of learners (1998, p.35; 1985, p.122). Class suicide is not self-immolation in an academic or intellectual sense; rather, it is “comradeship” with the learners (Freire & Ramos, 2014, p.35). The educator(s) model the way “to exist in the world as historical beings … open and capable of producing what does not yet exist”(p.35), an important broker within the first-year writing class as the learners are engaging college for the first time. In this cultural action for freedom, the fundamental dimension of the learner’s reflective action is their conscientization (Freire, 1985, p.89). When we write about real issues that impact our learner(s) we develop clarity of these issues “as an actual phenomenon in an actual world” (p.111). We also, through reflexive literacy practices, develop the ability to transform the world impacted by these real issues (p.112). This is the process of conscientization, the development of a lifelong curiosity through reflexive awareness of ingenuous and epistemological curiosity of the learner in constant dialogue with the world and the democratic-minded educator who learns to speak by listening (Freire, 1998, p.104).

Discussion Joe L. Kincheloe’s “critical complex practice of teacher education” is an important framework for investigating conscientization in first-year writing courses. Kincheloe’s mapping of “teachers as knowledge producers, knowledge workers who pursue their own intellectual development…”

Utopian Social Praxis in First-Year Writing Courses  45 (2004, p.51). This is the idea that educator(s) and learner(s) are agents of change (p.52). Kincheloe maps multiple forms of pedagogical knowledge, developing a meta-epistemological perspective for the reader. This is a process that seeks the “delineation of the types of knowledge required in a critical complex teacher education” (p.52). Kincheloe describes Normative knowledge, or the ethics of what should be in first-year writing (p.55); Critical knowledge, or the awareness of power dynamics in the teacher-scholar relationship (p.57); Ontological knowledge, or praxis where theory meets action through reflexive literacy and exploration of teacher-scholar values (p.58). Experiential knowledge, or “knowledge about practice; rooted in action” (pp.60–61). The final is the reflexive literacy practices that allow for the examination of each of these knowledges in relation to the other, or Reflective-synthetic knowledge (p.62). The critical complex practice for teacher education emphasizes a reflexive awareness that is “shaped by the socioeducational context with its accompanying linguistic codes, cultural signs, and tacit views of the world” (p.64). The critical pedagogue implements reflective literacy practices through an equitable framework of dialogue. An important addition to this reflexive literacy practice of analysis of Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed is Ryuko Kubota’s (2019) work and research with epistemological racism. Kubota’s epistemological racism is important for its revelation on how it “marginalizes and erases the knowledge produced by scholars in the Global South, women scholars of color, and other minoritized groups” (2019, p.1). Kubota’s anti-Herderian lens toward epistemological racism looks at the status quo as a hegemonic attitude that “excludes us from and simultaneously assimilates us into the dominant white knowledge” (p.2). Critical Race Theory holds epistemological anti-racism as an invitation for scholars “to validate alternative theories, rethink our citation practices, and develop critical reflexivity and accountability” (p.1). Educators must develop an awareness of the “critical gaze” as a lens for exploring academia’s complicity in support of “epistemological racism in our knowledge production and consumption … how our own scholarly activities produce and maintain racial hierarchies and inequalities of different academic knowledges, further impacting the institutional status of racialized (and gendered) scholars” (p.4). Lilia I. Bartolome’s (2010) discussion of teacher ideology and power dynamics alongside Kubota’s work with epistemological racism assists with constructing an equitable framework of dialogue. Educators of color and other minority educators face “the combination of a meritocratic view of the social order, an assimilationist ideology, and a deficit orientation,” which “proves to be especially harmful because it rationalizes disregard for the native languages and primary cultures of newcomers and other linguistic-minority students” (p.510). Furthermore, as Bartolome (2010) notes, the critical pedagogue has the opportunity “to reflect on their ethical postures and on their roles in either reproducing

46  Joseph Mark Navarro dominant values or in producing values that humanize their pedagogies…” (p.523). In conjunction, Kubota presents an intersectional lens toward the development of an anti-racist alignment; first through the analysis of the three forms of racism (individual, institutional, and epistemological) in terms of overlap. Then utilizing an intersectional lens that allows for us “to consider how race intersects with other identity categories, including gender, class, ethnicity, language, nationality, sexuality, ability and age” (2019, p.5). This provides the educators with a window into the learner(s)’ identity and context for understanding how they respond and navigate the socioeconomic and technopolitical structures of power and privilege. Ryuko Kubota and Elizabeth R. Miller (2017) place critical pedagogies’ roots in three historic movements: “poststructuralist, Marxistinfluenced, and postcolonial theories” (p.1). These works “share an insistent focus on situated praxis … they demonstrate that criticality can and will constantly be rethought, reworked, and reimagined as new cohorts of teachers seek to practice critical pedagogy with their students in their unique contexts” (p.24). Kubota and Miller (2017) analyze critical pedagogy through a feminist lens to understand how male privilege “reflects through his gaze, privilege and experiences,” which impact the academic space (p.15). This is further enunciated through the “Black feminist perspective, that the privilege held by colonizers who refuse remains intact in the colonial system, forcing them to confront contradictions” (p.16). Using this lens, the idea of action and reflection are concrete movements of praxis that lead to “the enactment of socially transformational activities” (p.17). Monisha Bajaj (2015) expands on this exploration of the global south with the idea that pedagogies of resistance are critical and democratic educational models utilized by social movements—and how global examples of engaged educational praxis may inform peace education” (p.1). Bajaj utilizes the lens of distance to power over geographical locales as a predictor of realities (p.2). This allows for the exploration of “social movements and community organizations addressing social and economic hierarchies in highly unequal practices” (p.2). The work explores the theories of critical peace studies; provides a frame for pedagogies of resistance; and attempts to plan a synthesis of the two pedagogical alignments (p.2). Within critical peace studies, educators focus on the violence of institutions and social structures; providing knowledge and wisdom on addressing these issues; and utilizing the educational space as one of transformation for peace (p.2). Critical peace studies is held as a framework for more direct discourse around marginalizing powers; accessible and democratic methods of educational engagement; and an educational experience linked to large sociocultural movements for change and progress (p.4).

Utopian Social Praxis in First-Year Writing Courses  47

Moving Forward The preeminent discovery within this work is the idea of conscientization in first-year writing courses and how it “effects the ejection of cultural myths that confuse the people’s awareness and make them ambiguous beings” (Freire, 1985, p.89). This is an archeology of consciousness where the learner(s) “remake the natural path where consciousness emerges” through reflexive literacy practices that develop an awareness of self (Freire, 1985, p.115). In this process, the educator(s) and learner(s) work to demythesize a world that presents the future as static and fixed, to the benefit of the elite and their status quo (Freire & Ramos, 2014, p.112). This status quo is an “artificial consciousness … [a] mystification [that] leads to the ‘sacredness’ of the social order, untouchable, undiscussable. Anyone who questions the social order must be punished one way or another, and they are labeled by similar means of propaganda as bad citizens…” (Freire, 1985, p.116). Through this community of developing critical consciousness, “freedom becomes mature in confrontation with other freedoms, defending its rights in relation to … authority” (p.97). Autonomy in this awareness and state of becoming is a matter of ethics and responsibility, “no one is first autonomous and then makes a decision. Autonomy is the result of a process involving various and innumerable decisions” (p.98). Conscientization is not a static state because humans are communally programmed, “capable of observing, comparing, evaluating, choosing, deciding, intervening, breaking with, and making options (Freire, 1998, p.92). Conscientization is constructing an awareness of a social proprioception and epistemological curiosity as faculties for self-empowerment to develop agency within the learner(s).

References Bajaj, M. (2015). ‘Pedagogies of Resistance’ and Critical Peace Education Praxis. Journal of Peace Education, 12(2), 154–166. Bartolomé, I.L. (2010). Preparing to Teach Newcomer Students: The Significance of Critical Pedagogy and the Study of Ideology in Teacher Education. Yearbook of the National Society for the Study of Education, 109(2), 505–526. Breuing, M. (2011) Problematizing Critical Pedagogy. International Journal of Critical Pedagogy, 3(3), 2–23. Freire, P. (1985). The politics of education: Culture, power, and liberation. Bergin & Garvey. Freire, P. (1998). Pedagogy of freedom: Ethics, democracy, and civic courage. Rowman & Littlefield Publishers. Freire, P. & Ramos, M. B. (2014). Pedagogy of the oppressed: 30th anniversary edition. Bloomsbury Publishing. Fulkerson, R. (2005). Composition at the Turn of the Twenty-First Century. College Composition and Communication, 56(4), 654–687.

48  Joseph Mark Navarro Kincheloe, J.L. (2004). The Knowledges of Teacher Education: Developing a Critical Complex Epistemology. Teacher Education Quarterly, 31(1), 49–66. Kubota. R. (2019). Confronting Epistemological Racism, Decolonizing Scholarly Knowledge: Race and Gender in Applied Linguistics. Applied Linguistics, 41(5), 712–732. Kubota, R. & Miller, E. (2017). Re-Examining and Re-Envisioning Criticality in Language Studies Theories and Praxis. Critical Inquiry in Language Studies, 14(2–3), 129–157. Thomson-Bunn, H. (2014). Are they empowered yet?: Opening up definitions of critical pedagogy. Composition Forum, 29, http://compositionforum.com/ issue/29 Yoon. K.H. (2005). Affecting the Transformative Intellectual: Questioning “Noble” Sentiments in Critical Pedagogy and Composition. JAC: A Journal of Composition Theory, 25(4), 717–759.

4 The Cost of Failing Freshman Composition Policies That Penalize Multilingual Learners in Higher Education Corinne Alice Nulton On Accents I don’t want to ink away your accent by jotting in the articles and apostrophes, crossing out “s” and “es” where plurals shouldn’t be, fixing possessives, while losing perspective of the narrative that was lost somewhere between the replaced “ons” with “ins” and “lys” at the ends.  Red scribble is mostly all that’s left of what was your voice, but, I mean, hey, it’s “grammatically correct” since your professor bases intellect on misplaced modifiers.  For example, the best story I’ve heard had da’s instead of the’s. A refugee recalling a childhood civil war, causing him and his family to flee to the corner of their country. A swooping, snake-like hand gesture curves across the table,  articulating the sensation of a fast-flowing “Reever” Fingers symbolize graves downstream of the lives it had taken. “Like eyes closed” he repeats, blinking, conveying the darkness, the fear of not knowing if they were even in the water until feeling the frigid splash. The three adults, clinging to children, barely even a ripple in its rapids. He wraps his fingers around my wrist to show me how his family crossed, hand clenched around hand. Deeper and deeper, waists well under wakes, the waves crashing over heads, drenching and dunking them downward. “I dree, maybe? Four?” I can’t picture the six-foot-tall body builder being small enough to fit in his mother’s arms, hoisted up and tucked between the nape of her neck and shoulder. But, he nods repeatedly, swearing it’s true. DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-5

50  Corinne Alice Nulton His mother, “she yell ‘a’me, cause I keep, eh… durning?” He twists to show me. “Drying da see m’fa’der.” He looks over his shoulder, as if expecting to see the gigantic man I gather his father to be, holding a daughter in each arm, trudging through the river. As for his mother, “I feel ‘er heart hit my chest. She so afraid. It bruising me almost.” Their father shushes all of them between mumbled prayers. It’s clear by the middle they will not all make it. They have to let each other go to try to swim against the ripping water. I can’t understand how that realization didn’t paralyze them in the icy depths. He shudders, “At night I wake in deepest part’o dat reever still,” gasping mouthfuls of water, bashing against the bottom of the river bed. Droplets of the frozen water drip down my spine; even poorly pronounced, it chills me. How is it that even in the wrong tense his words lose no intensity? We sit in silence for a moment. I touch his hand, “I’m so sorry.” He shakes head. “Anyway dat is why one day I build breeges.” A bridge builder in a stack of essays not half as remarkable.  “What words good fa me da say dat?” “Yours?” The draft just recited feels perfect. The accent cannot be wedged away from the experience, without losing both and all balance in the “reever” for me, at least, though I know academia has less patience. It breaks my heart to help him turn his da’s into a’s and the’s  Something beautiful is lost as fluency’s gained Though it’s hard to name exactly what the rapids wore away. (Nulton, 2016)

Introduction I wrote the above poem as a frustrated adjunct with no poetic ability as an attempt to name a trend I didn’t fully understand but experienced everyday in one-on-one writing consultations. It was a force akin to gravity that drew multilingual students into the writing center in masses with failure looming over them after receiving their first graded paper. My poem is poorly rhymed and rhythmed but its core theme is just as relevant. I hoped to shed light on a system of inequality that caused students to sit across from me, pen clenched, ready to write, and then vanish from their academic setting at the conclusion of the school year, regardless of the

The Cost of Failing Freshman Composition  51 effort they invested and the growth they demonstrated in their freshman composition courses. I did not know theories of anti-racist pedagogy or anything about cultural ideologies at the time, yet I lived and unintentionally enforced this process of whitewashing in attempt to teach multilingual students not only the language but the genres, policies, and jargon of academia at a breakneck pace in order to retain them. That poem is an epitaph to three students I did not retain. Sure, there are plenty of students who failed, but these three did everything they were supposed to do—they went to their composition instructors’ office hours, they signed up for tutoring early, and they accepted feedback. Their breadth of creativity and life-experience could blow most of their classmates away, yet they failed their papers. They failed not because they didn’t go through several drafts or because they didn’t implement every suggestion I (and others) made; ultimately, the grammatical errors distracted their instructors from the art beneath. These three students could not produce texts as quickly and as accurately as their native-speaking peers without the imprint of their accent. Yet, my white mimicry of that same accent in the above poem got published in an online magazine. We told portions of the same story—their stories—and in one setting the accent caused failure and in another it was a publishable poem. I can think of no better microcosm for the hypocrisy and unintentional racism of higher education. Accents seem to be the antithesis of academic writing; there’s no room for them in the policies made by native speakers. I work with students who have accents. I am uniquely situated as an adjunct remedial English instructor and a full-time academic adviser for at-risk students. Often, the students I teach in the fall are on my academic probation list in the spring, but it’s not due to a lack of effort. These students demonstrate an immense appreciation for their education through their work ethic. Some have been living in the United States for only a few months. Others have lived here for years but did not have any formal education in English. At my institution, we have a writing center, an English tutorial course, conversation partners, and a bridge program for this population of multilingual learners. Ultimately, 18 years of English literacy and fluency cannot be achieved in a 20-week period. It’s just not possible, yet it’s expected.

The Photo with the Mascot: A Look at My Campus When students receive their admissions letters, it’s tradition for them to come to campus with their families and take photos with the cement statue of our mascot as they radiate pride and happiness. This geographically dispersed state university has a campus of 992 students. It sprawls out across a 45-acre mountainside with luscious views of the valley below. My campus has the top-ten university name with the small communitycollege-like environment with the average class size having only 23 students. It is also the cheapest commuter school in the area with a semester

52  Corinne Alice Nulton cost that ranks in at even less than the neighboring community colleges (Data USA, 2023). This distinguished school is a great place for students to start with small classes and a variety of degrees. In terms of diversity, the freshman cohort of 2019 had 243 students: 67 students identified as non-white, with the largest groups being of Asian and Spanish descent. While I could not find how many multilingual learners were in the cohort, I doubt the authenticity of that data, since many conditional acceptances and non-degree students would not be included in the numbers, and that is really the population I am describing. A better way for me to convey the numbers may be to look at how many sections of remedial English are scheduled each fall. Those classes combined have the seats to accommodate 56 students, and while not all the students will be multilingual learners, most are (Data USA, 2023). Immigration resulting in higher populations of multilingual students is not new. Bartolomé (2015) describes the same nationwide trend over 20 years ago in her article on using critical pedagogy to welcome newcomer students, stating this: In 2000, foreign-born U.S. residents and their U.S.-born offspring numbered nearly 55 million, or one fifth of the nation’s total population. They come from culturally, linguistically, and socioeconomically diverse backgrounds; however, approximately 80% come from Latin America, Asia, and the Afro-Caribbean basin (U.S. Department of Commerce, Bureau of the Census, 2003). In fact, since 1960, 50% of U.S. immigrants have come from Latin America and 25% from Asia. (Lew, 2006; C. Suárez-Orozco & Suárez-Orozco, 2001) (p. 505) The numbers have certainly changed, the trend continues, and my remedial classroom reflects the large population of Asian and Latin American students she describes. While my university does not have an open admissions policy, the institution will accept students conditionally, or let them enter as a nondegree-seeking student to bypass regular testing and Carnegie Unit requirements. There are also no requirements for Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages (TESOL), Reading SAT, or language testing for students who graduate from local high schools or from other GED programs. Many students have been successful using this bypass, but more often than not, first-generation freshman who are multilingual do not understand the nuances between a regular acceptance versus a conditional acceptance, nor do they know what “non-degree-seeking” really is. They view their acceptance letter like any other student: confirmation that they can be successful in college.

The Cost of Failing Freshman Composition  53 But the sad truth is, the university does not have the resources in place to retain all of these students—the ghost students—who bypass the traditional admissions process. As non-degree or conditional students, these “ghost students” are not always included in the official count or retention numbers. They come and vanish quietly after a year, and since they do not affect the official retention number, there is not a lot of conversation about this population. These “ghost students” fill the seats of remedial English classes, often end up in academic probation, and then abandon their pursuit of a degree. For that reason, it is bittersweet to see students posing with the mascot. I cannot help but wonder if they will be on my academic probation list the following semester—if they will be yet another “ghost student.”

Knowing Just Enough English After reading Kumaravadivelu’s “Critical Language Pedagogy: A Postmethod Perspective on English Language Teaching,” I was haunted by the idea of “just enough English.” Kumaravadivelu cites Tollefson (1986) in the following passage: The U.S. maintains a covert policy to ensure that immigrants in the U.S. refugee camps in countries like Thailand, the Philippines, and Indonesia learn just enough English before migrating to the US to perform minimum-wage jobs to avoid welfare dependency, but not enough to move beyond these levels. (p. 541) Here, language education is shown as a tool to limit the power of minorities and force them into a socioeconomic mold so that they can most benefit the dominating culture of the United States. Kumaravadivelu (2003) elaborates, “Economy is the engine that drives the ELT industry” (p. 543), meaning it’s the availability of minimum-wage jobs that determines immigration quotas. Perhaps this shows that the United States has no altruistic intentions when welcoming immigrants; rather, our government hopes to monopolize on their experience to benefit the upper and middle classes. I never considered the problems I faced as an instructor in this bleak context, but when I think of the issues my multilingual students face, I see this idea reflected in every classroom. Our administration complains constantly about how weak the English as a Second Language (ESL) programs are at the local high schools, which use monolingual learning strategies. These underprepared students are pushed through the system until graduation, then are sent off to our state college to fail. I blamed this apparent trend on the local high schools and on a lack of resources. I assumed it was something unique to my campus, but I never once considered this as a microcosm of the dominating culture

54  Corinne Alice Nulton forcing this marginalized group into the minimum-wage positions our economy thrives off of. Immigrant students attend the local high schools so they can enter the workforce, but aren’t given enough knowledge so they can succeed in college and eventually earn high-paying jobs. Lin (2013) explains that educators know it would be beneficial to use the students’ native language strategically while learning the second language. However, teachers and principals are pressured to teach only in the first language or only in the second language in order to follow the government’s teaching recommendations. The lack of resources in the education of multilingual learners is not just about a lack of money. For example, one of the local high schools that refer students to our institution just received a $39 million budget increase (an 86% increase), and rather than allocating it to multilingual learner education, a school board member said that it needed to go toward the current deficit before any plans could be made (Gallo, 2021). In a district with only 53% of students scoring proficient or higher on their 2019 English Language Arts PSSA’s, it’s unclear why language skills wouldn’t be a primary priority (PSSA Report, 2019). It seems like an intentional allocation of money that debilitates the marginalized population. It parallels hooks’s (2010) claim that “Racism is just one of the systems of domination that has been perpetuated and maintained by educators” (p. 31).

There Is Racism Throughout Higher Education The dominant culture has squeezed marginalized students through the public school system while also diminishing the work of academics from minority groups by refusing to publish their work. This system of inequality shapes academics at both the bottom and the top of a pyramid, and makes dismantling decades of whitewashing seem impossible. Even Kubota (2019) states, “Epistemological racism in academe is ingrained in our academic knowledge system.… This system is demonstrated by the lack of students of color in gifted programs and the clear disparities of resources of public schools” (p. 716–718). Racism may exist more subtly, but it is equally pervasive in the discrimination of publishers and scholars in higher education. For example, Kubota (2019) describes a study conducted in the global south that was not considered “global enough,” while the same study was conducted in the north and published on the grounds that it was global. She also discusses how authors with Asian names may struggle to get published based on their race. Moreover, researchers from Asian countries are discouraged from conducting research in their home countries because it’s difficult to find funding (p. 714). One of the facts that fuel this system of inequality is that it is easier to have research published in English than in any other language. Kubota explains, “These examples demonstrate the troubled

The Cost of Failing Freshman Composition  55 relationship between race, location, and knowledge, which leads to privileging white Euro-American-centric knowledge and scholars in the Global North while marginalizing the other” (p. 722). These systems of racism, such as the one that is perpetuated by academia, not only limit the work of marginalized scholars, but they have a grave effect on mental health and student identity. Kubota (2019) describes the psychological effect of whiteness and how non-white people see themselves. Non-white individuals have a psychological lens that constantly compares themselves to white individuals. Their identity then becomes rooted in how similar or dissimilar they are in comparison to the idea of whiteness (p. 11). An example of this identity struggle is illustrated by Linlin in Nuske’s (2017) series of snapshots. Linlin, a graduate TESOL student, explains her struggle to master the English language, recounting her experience: When I was in my class in here, first I didn’t expect I have so many American classmates in my class. So it’s kind of somewhere in the brain saying, ‘[No matter] how hard you study you cannot do anything better than those students because they speak that language’ … I felt pressure. (p. 17) This piece of dialogue shows that Linlin feels hopeless because she is not focusing on her progress as a student, but instead, she is comparing herself to the native speakers in her class. Moreover, Linlin talks about her aversion to Chinese accents, stating, I mean, I’m kind of discriminating my own people. Because … someone who speaks English with a French accent, different accent, I’m OK with it. But someone speaks English with a strong Chinese accent I just cannot listen to it. (Nuske, 2017, p. 2) Linlin is looking at herself through a distorted lens, like those in funhouse mirrors. She compares herself and others to the white nativespeaking standard, rather than having a separate identity based on non-white expectations. Unfortunately, this example is not unique to Linlin; Villanueva (2013) writes about the disenfranchised defining themselves through the eyes of the dominant culture. He argues, “that since our identities are formed in relation to others, power relations are such that there is no truly autonomous Other, no truly autonomous subaltern whose voice is separate from and stands alongside the voices of those in power” (p. 100). Therefore, multilingual students and other marginalized groups are not just struggling to learn the language, but to create their own identity that is separate from the dominating culture.

56  Corinne Alice Nulton These examples show that racism shapes everything from the academic preparedness of freshmen to the scholarly work of professors. The statements from Linlin exemplify that discrimination exists even among members of the same minority group because they are conditioned by the idea of whiteness. In an educational system where racism is so pervasive, it is no wonder that our policies fail to retain our multilingual learners.

A Brief History of Remedial English Remedial English instructors know their student population has nuanced needs that reach far beyond their mastery of English. Villanueva (2013) talks about the course in the New York Times article that suggests remedial English instructors are also social workers, counseling their students through the personal, financial, and medical situations that derail their academic efforts as members of an at-risk population. He then launches into a rather darkly humorous history of remedial compositional discussing the student population: They were the victims of a particular political economy.… At Harvard the boys were assigned to English A, and some to English B, and even some to English D, the letters correlating to potential grades in writing in English A. (p.99) By naming the English courses after the letter grades the students would receive in English A, the university was clearly enforcing a native-speaker standard and holding all students to it. Villanueva (2013) insists that decades later, the primary goal of remedial English is still assimilating the non-natives as the dominating culture. However, it seems impossible to break the cycle when even the course description for remedial English at my institution begins with “for students with deficient preparation.” The course description, again, compares multilinguals to the native speaker and assumes if they do not know standard academic English they are “deficient.” The use of the word “deficient” in the University Bulletin perpetuates the ideology of the dominating class. It feels normal, even logical, to single out students who cannot mimic academic English and throw them all into the same remedial English class, regardless of their differences in proficiency. Likewise, it seems natural, even justifiable, when instructors fail multilingual students who put in the effort, because they do not meet the standard. The reason why these injustices feel natural is because of just how pervasive the ideology is. Bartolomé (2015) states that “Given their pervasiveness, ruling ideologies as perpetuated in schools are generally invisible, and, if they are perceived, they are generally considered ‘natural’” (p. 508).

The Cost of Failing Freshman Composition  57 Following this dominant ideology, we blame the students for their failure. Bartolomé (2015) goes on to explain, “Key dominant ideologies include the belief that the existing social order is fair and just—that is, a meritocracy—and that disadvantaged cultural groups are responsible for their own situation” (p. 509). In other words, it is the student’s fault they did not meet the standard. Not the instructor’s fault. Not the university’s fault. Villanueva (2013) calls on us to rethink remedial English as we know it, because basic writers do not need remedies. Rather, the dominating culture needs to realize that even the regular freshman composition course is at some level remedial, too. They also have comma splices, misplaced modifiers, and unparallel constructions. However, it is the other-culture element of basic English that makes it deficient, as the universities have labeled it. It is important to note that being in remedial English and being labeled as a deficient student is not punishment enough: remedial English does not count toward graduation, so it is an extra class that the students must pay for and complete before continuing with the regular composition class. With 46% of students having a household income of less than $50,000, taking summer courses to make up credits is often not a viable option (The Pennsylvania State University, Quick Facts, 2021). What’s worse is that in the past, remedial courses have impacted the amount of state aid students are eligible for, which, again, punishes the population of students who often have the most financial need.

Impossible Standards I have seen how damaging set standards can be. I have diverse students of various levels of preparedness and fluency. The one thing they share is reading SAT scores that are below 430 (assuming they have SAT scores), and in 15 short weeks they must produce the work of a student with a 530 SAT score. It has always made the most sense to me to grade my students based on their progress—maybe not their labor, though I do believe if they do the work, they progress. However, I cannot grade that way in my current role. If a student grows tremendously in the course, and I give them an “A,” but they fail their English and Composition Diagnostic, two things happen: 1 The student has to retake remedial English (the same as if the student failed the class) 2 I have to explain to the department why the student received an “A,” but did not demonstrate proficiency on the diagnostic exam. Therefore, I am greatly compelled to teach based on the ever-looming diagnostic test that is mandated. It is still very discouraging for the students who worked with tutors every week and utilized my office hours, but still did not hit the mark.

58  Corinne Alice Nulton But why is there a specific mark to hit? One of the reasons for student failure is the idea of a standard set by native-speaking academics that our multilingual students must reach. The idea of forcing them to meet this standard as quickly as possible totally diminishes their learning process. As Lin (2013) explains, Policymakers both project and assert the view of languages as stable, monolithic, reified entities with clear-cut boundaries. The job of the language planner is seen in terms of the prescription and standardization of linguistic systems, culminating in the production and dissemination of authoritative dictionaries, grammars, and teaching manuals of the national and official languages. (p. 524) Academia expects only one static and singular version of the language and penalizes otherwise. There is a danger of setting standards that students know they cannot reach in a 15-week period. In Kim’s (2015) study of project-based learning, there were several cases of plagiarism where students copied work or used an online translator rather than translating the text themselves. The instructor combated this by discussing plagiarism with her class and adjusting the standard. She would no longer seek grammatically perfect submissions—just coherent submissions she could understand. This change in expectations eliminated further plagiarism. Students ultimately left with very positive views on project-based learning. However, this study shows how unreachable standards and the idea of perfection can encourage students to cheat. Cheating in higher education comes with grave consequences that vary based on the instructor’s discretion. A student can receive a 0% for the assignment or for the course, depending on what the instructor decides. Students are unable to drop the course, so they are forced to accept whatever the consequences are. Plus, it counts as one of the two attempts to pass the course. It is no coincidence that most of my institution’s academic integrity violations come from our multilingual learner population; they are desperate to reach a standard that cannot be attained in 15 weeks, and when they are caught, they are forced to fail the course and accept the financial implications. Inoue (2019) questions the need for any set standard, stating, “linguists and other scholars agree that there is no single way to communicate effectively” (p. 9). He goes so far as to state that these standards are an extension of white supremacy and are examples of institutional racism, adding, “It’s structural, seems natural, thus is normalized such that many of us cannot see it as such in our classrooms, in our disciplines, in our ways of reading and valuing student texts” (p. 8). He implores instructors to empathize with students who did not choose the standards

The Cost of Failing Freshman Composition  59 they are to be graded against. He goes on to list the cons of grading in general, saying the following: Grading is almost always employed in order to control students (and sometimes their teachers), force students to be accountable (and sometimes their teachers), and measure or rank students (and sometimes their teachers), either against each other or against a single standard. Each of these purposes for grading in writing classrooms is detrimental to learning generally, and more harmful to many students of color and raciolinguistically diverse students. (pp. 4–5) As an adviser assigned to this population, I would argue that failing students who put in the effort is condemning them to a minimum-wage career and socioeconomic immobility. Multilingual students who fail their remedial English classes often experience academic probation, a warning period at my institution that students experience if their cumulative grade point average is less than a 2.0. After a semester in warning, students may face suspension if their grade point average does not improve. First-year students are particularly at risk because they only have two semesters worth of grades. Currently, 70% of the students in academic probation failed their first semester composition course, and the remaining students had grades of “C” or lower. This cohort is following the same trend as the previous cohorts. If I look back to the previous semester, 47% of students in academic probation failed their first composition class with another 26% having grades at a “C” or lower. This suggests two things: (1) A student’s performance in their first English composition course (whether it is rhetoric or remedial English) is an indicator of retention. (2) Composition courses play a pivotal role in retaining students. To better understand this role, we need to consider the cost of failing students.

The Cost of Failing Students What composition instructors may not realize is that in order to maintain federal financial aid (not just scholarships and grants, but the lowinterest student loans that do not require credit scores or co-signers), students must complete 68% of their coursework. Both “F” grades and late drops count against that percentage. Also, students must have an overall average of a “C” or better. If a student loses their financial aid for either of those reasons, often they cannot attain private student loans without a cosigner with a good credit score. As a result, college becomes unaffordable after their first year, and they are left without a degree but with significant student loan debt. First-year students are especially at risk of this fate because they only have two semesters of grades to form

60  Corinne Alice Nulton their cumulative average, and they have a tendency to drop classes which count against their completion rate. As an instructor you see the work submitted. Perhaps, if you are a good instructor, you see the individual student, briefly, in weekly class discussions or during office hours. Advisers, on the other hand, get to see the whole picture, so I invite you now to look at some student cases through the eyes of an adviser. First, if a student knows they are failing their English Composition course, they can late drop it, but it will count against their course completion percentage for financial aid. My institution also enforces a twoattempt policy, meaning a student can only register for a class twice. Knowing that, I would advise the student to sign up for tutoring at the writing center. If they are a multilingual learner, I would connect them with a conversation partner, and I would have them sign up for the onecredit support course that offers additional weekly English tutoring. However, 15 weeks is not a long time to both demonstrate knowledge of the language through high-quality academic texts and complete the coursework for their other classes. Not to mention, most students have to work to pay their tuition as they go. They may live with their parents and have familial responsibilities, too. Perhaps by the last four weeks of the semester the student is no longer failing but borderline. They decide to stay in the class rather than to drop it because hope exists. However, it all comes down to the research paper, which is worth 30% of their final grade. The student has enormous pressure to perform, and from my experience with academic integrity violations, this is usually when students plagiarize. Even if they resist the urge to cheat, if they do not get a “C,” they must retake the course, and if it is remedial English, they are taking a course that does not count for graduation a second time, falling further behind. If they get a “D” it will count toward satisfactory academic progress during their financial aid review, but with an “F,” they will likely enter academic probation and be in danger of losing their financial aid in the spring. Let’s say, in this situation, the student does fail their composition course. Now, they have only the spring semester to pull up their grades to maintain their financial aid. Policy dictates that I should put them back in English Composition immediately and the English department recommends that I put them with a different instructor so that no work can be recycled. The policy assumes that students who do not pass English Composition within their first two semesters do not belong in this university setting. English classes are used as a means of weeding out. But, to be honest, I often do not recommend that students take composition in the spring if they have failed it in the fall. I see that the reading and writing classes are challenging, so I will instead suggest some

The Cost of Failing Freshman Composition  61 math and general education credits at the risk of defying policy and logic, since the English class would be the most beneficial class for a student learning the language. However, it seems unfair to have so much hinge on a single course in the spring semester. It is their last attempt— wouldn’t it make more sense to expose them to more community-based language situations first? Wouldn’t it make more sense to let them pull up their GPA first? And if they repeat remedial English in the spring, and they fail it, they will have no chance at continuing at my university due to the two-attempt policy. Even if they find another university that accepts them, they will likely have no federal financial aid, so it often becomes unaffordable. That is why failing composition often results in students leaving higher education for good. It is really an impossible situation for both the student and the adviser. Academic institutions that have such rules are unlikely to retain either of us if it does not change. I agree that it is sometimes necessary to fail students, but I would argue that instructors who teach first-year students should practice empathy and understand the long-term impacts of “F” grades when evaluating final writing projects. If there is clear effort or growth, even if the final product is not meeting the expectations, then instructors should find a means to help the student get there rather than perpetuating this system of inequality.

An Argument for Labor-Based Grading and Implementing the “V” Grade The loss of our multilingual students cannot be fixed by a single policy. First and foremost, we need to change our course description for the remedial English class, and even consider changing the name of the course, since words like “Remedial” and “Deficient” are damaging to our students. Villanueva (2013) states, “The faculty learn from us and from the students that often, the students’ writing does not reflect a lack of organizational abilities but different organizational patterns” (p. 106). Meaning, our faculty need to understand that the writing multilingual students submit is not wrong, but in the process of evolving; therefore, the patterns may not reflect the norm. Accents are not errors, but a stage of transition. We also need to teach our remedial English instructors to use “critical pedagogy,” which Bartolomé defines stating, “critical pedagogy focuses on understanding the links between ideology power, culture, and language in educational contexts. Its goal is to create schools that are more socially just and democratic” (p. 507). Critical pedagogy has been proven to be a more effective and less damaging method of language teaching, because of its use of power dynamics. Students feel empowered not only to speak up in class, but to critique their social surroundings and their position in reference to the dominating culture.

62  Corinne Alice Nulton While critical pedagogy is beneficial, it is not a cure-all to the problems presented in this paper. Villanueva (2013) agrees, “But the problem remains: how to teach the written rhetoric of power without negating students’ power, the power inherent in their own ways with words. One answer might be to teach a conscious mimicry” (p. 102). Teaching students how to recognize conventions in one language will help them to recognize conventions in another. Likewise, teaching the conscious mimicry of patterns can help our multilingual students compare English sentence structures to those of their own language to form a deeper and more meaningful understanding. He elaborates on this process, stating the following: In remaining conscious of students’ patterns of predispositions by way of early drafts that give vent to culturally specific discursive ways, the conversation is opened up; the professors and the students work together in assuring students gain access to the places they wish to go by way of the academy without erasing where they’ve been. (p. 102) This is the answer to the poem I began with—this is how we teach by embracing what the students already know. Errors should be seen as a transitional space and teaching the language should not involve rewriting the student’s history or voice. Next, we need to start including the non-degree-seeking students and the conditionally accepted students in official data so that we can track this student population. They need to be on our retention reports so we can know just how many individual students left our institution in order to better understand why they left and the impacts of leaving. Kubota (2019) says, “In these discussions, we need to turn our critical lens away from the whitemasters/colonizers who dominate the knowledge systems, and instead look into ourselves” (p. 12). I must consider the factors that are within my control as an academic adviser, but every suggestion I have made so far is dependent on outside factors. Remember that my campus is one of many within this institution with about 98,783 students (Data USA, 2023). Tracking the non-traditional accepts would require a new software program. Educating the remedial English instructors would take a tremendous amount of resources and buy-in, which is unlikely to come until the data is calculated. If I look at my role as an adviser, there is one academic policy that is sweeping, simple, and effective: Labor-based grading in Remedial English by means of “V” grades. The alternate grade of “V” was originally used during COVID for “D” letter grades in a pass/fail system to help students preserve their grade point average during the effects of COVID-19. The advantage of the “V”

The Cost of Failing Freshman Composition  63 grade is that it would not affect a student’s financial aid, because it counts toward the 68% completion rate. It also would not tank a student’s grade point average because it is not counted in the GPA calculation. The “V” means that students would not enter academic probation due to remedial English either. The “V” has already been programmed into the software that runs audits, and it would just need to be made available to instructors during grade submission. However, students would need to retake the class to get a “C” or higher before moving on to the traditional rhetoric and composition course. Unfortunately, this still enforces a standard level of preparation for the next level of composition, but it diminishes the financial consequences for needing more than 15 weeks to learn academic English. The “V” grade would not be issued to every multilingual student; only those who do not pass the final diagnostic but put forth the effort. This can be implemented through use of a grading contract. Inoue (2019) talks about the pros of implementing a grading contract, stating, Labor-based grading contracts attempt to form an inclusive, more diverse ecological place, one that can be antiracist and anti-White supremacist by its nature. The ecology does not use a single standard of so-called quality to grade students, and focuses time, labor, and attention on other elements in the ecology, realizing that these other elements construct more of the ecology than a standard. (p. 13) Therefore, it would be beneficial for multilingual students to be able to receive a “V” grade if they put in the effort to learn, but did not reach the native-speaking standard. Using the “V” grade would increase retention by allowing multilingual students to continue their education without fear of academic suspension or anxiety over lost financial aid. Students would also be able to continue taking remedial English until they reach the standard with no negative consequences.

Moving Forward Ultimately, I hope this chapter shows that when faculty members fail students for not meeting the university-set-standards in composition courses, they may be unintentionally perpetuating a hierarchy of racism. The ideologies in place make the current policies of “F” letter grades, diagnostic tests, and two attempts per course seem natural, but they come from a culture that “rationalizes disregard for the native languages and primary cultures of newcomers and other linguistic-minority students” (Bartolomé, 2015, p. 523). It is that same ideology that allows universities to take tuition money from students who do not meet the admissions requirements, students who are unlikely to succeed with the

64  Corinne Alice Nulton resources currently in place. These racist policies do not only damage the students’ prospects; they damage the students’ identities. If instructors are to be effective advocates for their multilingual students, they need to remember the pivotal role an English composition class may play in determining a student’s success in a college setting and, ultimately, in a student’s attempt to climb out of their predetermined social class. While there are many changes my university needs to implement to retain this population of multilingual students, the most practical may be a grading contract with the “V” grade, since this is a non-punitive evaluation of a student’s skills that allows them to stay in academia and continue their journey in English literacy.

References Bartolomé, L. (2015). Preparing to teach newcomer students: The significance of critical pedagogy and the study of ideology in teacher education. National Society for the Study of Education, 109 (2), 505–526. Gallo, A. (2021, February 3). In WNEP. Retrieved from https://www.wnep. com/article/news/local/lackawanna-county/new-budget-proposal-increasespublic-school-funding/523-5f2b6bd9-2708-4c97-b612-5fc6a7a01b3e hooks, bell. (2010). Teaching critical thinking: Practical wisdom. New York: Routledge. Inoue, A. B. (2019). Labor-based grading contracts: Building equity and inclusion in the compassionate writing classroom. Colorado: The WAC Clearinghouse. Kim, K. (2015). Students’ and teacher’s reflections on project-oriented learning: A critical pedagogy for Korean ELT. English Teaching, 70 (3), 73–98. Kubota, R. (2019). Confronting epistemological racism, decolonizing scholarly knowledge: Race and gender in applied linguistics. Applied Linguistics, xx (xx), 1–22. Kumaravadivelu, B. (2003). A postmethod perspective on English language teaching. World Englishes, 22(4), 539–550. Lew, J. (2006). Asian Americans in class: Charting the achievement gap among Korean American youth. New York: Teachers College Press. Lin, A. (2013). Toward paradigmatic change in TESOL methodologies: Building plurilingual pedagogies from the ground up. TESOL Quarterly, 47(3), 521. Nulton, C. A. (2016, December). On accents. Foliate Oak Poetry. https://www. arkansanreview.com/foliate-oak-december-2016-1 Nuske, K. (2017). “I Mean I’m Kind of Discriminating My Own People”: A Chinese TESOL Graduate Student’s Shifting Perceptions of China English. TESOL Quarterly, 52(2), 360–390. PSSA Report. (2019). Scranton School District. Retrieved from https://www.scrsd. org/apps/pages/index.jsp?uREC_ID=2235669&type=d&pREC_ID=2203816 Suárez-Orozco, C., & Suárez-Orozco, M. M. (2001). Children of immigration. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Data USA. (2023). Pennsylvania State University-Penn State Scranton. Retrieved January 22, 2023, from https://datausa.io/profile/university/pennsylvaniastate-university-penn-state-scranton

The Cost of Failing Freshman Composition  65 Tollefson, J. W. (1986). Functional Competencies in the U.S. Refugee Program: Theoretical and Practical Problems. TESOL Quarterly, 20(4), 649–664. https:// doi.org/10.2307/3586516 Villanueva, V. (2013). Subversive complicity and basic writing across the curriculum. Journal of Basic Writing, 32(1), 97–110.

5 Contemplative Creative Writing as a Pedagogical Practice Madeleine Rosa

Introduction My current position is as a second-semester master’s student and future TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) educator. I have been attending my MA courses for nearly ten months (since week 6 of my first semester). This pandemic has opened my eyes to a range of opportunities for mindfulness in my future classroom. My day-to-day life consists of moving from room to room in my one-bedroom off-campus housing, switching between being a student, a graduate assistant, and a nanny to three kids. As a result of this shift from in-person to online learning, after 17 years of in-person classes, I have focused on my mindfulness both in and out of the classroom. The impact of contemplative studies on my education is greater than I could have imagined. I find it essential to understand how students are affected by the curricula with which they are inundated from the start of their English language acquisition. Scholars like Freire, Pennycook, Kubota, and other notable critical pedagogues detail the importance of teaching our students to read the world, and with contemplative writing, we can give them the reigns to do so. As students are expected to “return to normalcy” following a pandemic, they will need the skill of reflexivity more than ever.

Defining and Exploring Contemplative Creative Writing Contemplative creative writing can be defined as a classroom activity implemented to enhance students’ involvement in learning in order to reflect on and learn from their past and present experiences. Ample research in the Second Language Acquisition has shown that anxiety is one of the main factors that can deteriorate a student’s acquisition skills. Stephen Krashen’s seminal work, Second Language Acquisition and Second Language Learning, illustrates that acquisition is the most successful in circumstances where “intake for acquisition is available in a low anxiety situation” (1981, p. 38). Horwitz, Horwitz, and Cope (1986) followed DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-6

Contemplative Creative Writing as a Pedagogical Practice  67 Krashen’s lead in understanding the functions of anxiety and self-perception in language acquisition by creating the “Foreign Language Classroom Anxiety Scale” to survey students’ anxiety levels in relation to speaking, reading, writing, and communicating in a foreign language. As educators, we can look to these models and develop praxis to minimize anxiety-inducing situations in our classrooms. Mindfulness is a step that pedagogues should take in order to create a comfortable classroom environment. While it may seem intimidating to implement this activity into courses, the small amount of time that is dedicated in class may have prolonged impacts on the classroom dynamics and students’ individual experiences. Owen-Smith urges teachers to do so, specifically in higher education, “​Casting a wide net of contemplative practices seems critical to integrating them into higher education and into teaching and learning” (2017, p. 101). Mindfulness-based stress reduction (MBSR) contemplative pedagogue Arthur Zajonc defines mindfulness in his article, “Contemplative Pedagogy: A Quiet Revolution in Higher Education” (2013) by including its history as a “Western invention, although based in the contemplative traditions of Asia. It consists of moment-tomoment, nonjudgemental awareness and is most commonly applied to the breath” (p. 84). Zajonc encourages different practices which can be implemented to foster love, growth, and hope in and outside of the classroom. He stresses that these practices must be done habitually to be the most effective (2013, p. 91). Laura Rendon’s Sentipensante (Sensing/ Thinking) Pedagogy: Educating for Wholeness, Social Justice and Liberation follows these same concepts. Rendon warns teachers not to stray toward a dualistic classroom in which students’ lives and education are separate parts of their identities but rather “holistic entities” that work together to fully immerse them into the curriculum (2014, p. 134). When preparing to teach a translingual classroom, meditation alongside critical pedagogy can be beneficial for students’ language acquisition as learning English is a life experience that goes beyond sitting in the classroom. In 1970, Paulo Freire coined the term conscientização as a “process to acquire the necessary critical thinking tools to understand how institutions of power work to deny them [students/ the oppressed] equality of treatment, access, and justice” (2000b, p. 17). The implication of conscientização or conscientization (which was hesitantly translated into English by Freire) is that the oppressed need to reclaim their voices and use them to fight the injustices of the world. This is unique from other social justice advocates because it is not solely about empowerment or enabling; it is about taking back agency, which highlights critical pedagogy at its core. This idea of taking back agency and putting it into the hands of our students and doing so alongside contemplative writing emboldens students to find their voices without relying on the oppressor to give it to them. This is why teaching them to read the world and, eventually, sending them on their own to name the world is essential. It gives students

68  Madeleine Rosa the tools they need to gain their own agency. As teachers, we can break down the hegemonic structures put into place in the educational systems throughout the world by using critical pedagogy and methods such as contemplative writing to overcome the contradictions of educational settings. This contradictory setting should be combated by our curricula rather than enhanced by it. By giving students back their power, we are combating the banking method of education. Freire states that we should be working to “resolve the teacher-student contradiction, to exchange the role of depositor, prescriber, domesticator, for the role of student among students would be to undermine the power of oppression and serve the cause of liberation” (2000b, p. 75). In this framework, we can learn from our students and continue to expand our praxis while guiding them through their naming of the world. The consciousness that is developed with learning about education creates a higher level of understanding, where students begin to recognize that their past educational experiences may have been led by oppressors. By taking the time to critically reflect, they can understand the world in a more nuanced way and shape it through their words, actions, and identities. Critical pedagogy is not a concept that can be defined using the binary terms of “teacher” and “learner” as separate entities. Rather, it is a student-centered approach that promotes student engagement and agency, where instructors learn alongside their students while they both draw from their real-world experiences. Yulianto details in his article “Critical Pedagogy Principles in Teaching EFL Reading” that critical pedagogy is a “language teaching-learning approach which is based on the acceptance of its sociopolitical implications and aims at transforming society by relating the grammatical knowledge and the wider social problems” (2015, p. 26). As students develop the critical consciousness that comes along with critical pedagogy, they can feel overwhelmed with all of the information that they are being presented with, and the beginnings of unlearning. It is our job as educators to make sure that our students are not feeling alone in the world as they try to navigate its naming. This is when contemplative writing would come into play in the classroom. Contemplative creative writing as a classroom activity is twofold: it gives students the freedom to improve their writing free of judgment while presenting the opportunity for mindfulness. James Moffet’s “Writing, Inner Speech, and Meditation” discusses the idea of contemplative writing as a “revised inner speech” where one freely expresses anything that comes to mind (1982, p. 231). These expressions can be memories, feelings, reflections, and reactions to the course content. It is essential to note that teachers should not be seen as psychologists helping the students through major life problems, but rather as a bridge between mindfulness and education. Moffett’s hope with implementing mindfulness in classrooms is that the students continue the practice outside of the

Contemplative Creative Writing as a Pedagogical Practice  69 classroom. Through the practice, students can learn to “enjoy and value the benefits of self-expression, communication, therapy, and art. The more evident all these benefits are, the more easily learners can muster the strength it takes to stick at practice” (Moffet, 1982, p. 234). While students may be practicing these mindfulness concepts in the classroom, encouraging independent mindfulness can reinforce their relationship and begin to show an impact on their stress and anxiety levels as well as language acquisition. By understanding foreign language anxiety, instructors can develop classroom practices that best fit the needs of their students. Foreign language and classroom anxiety differ from typical anxiety in that foreign language anxiety typically only manifests in situations where the learner is in the language learning context. Shakouri’s (2015) research found that anxiety is a significant factor that influences language learners. Shakouri defines second language anxiety as “a distinct complex of selfperceptions, beliefs, feelings, and behaviors related to using a second language for communication beyond the classroom” (p.1). Shakouri also points out that several factors create anxiety in these situations, including communication apprehension, test anxiety, and fear of negative evaluation (Shakouri, 2015, p. 2). Many of these problems can be attributed to the educational systems’ history of using the banking concept of education. Freire introduces the “banking concept” as treating students as receptacles for information and teachers as the all-knowing masters of what they teach (2000b, p. 64). The banking concept is problematic because it does not take students’ experiences, or the ways that they learn best, into account. Contemplative and critical pedagogy requires that we look at our students as individuals to avoid this. In order to better understand the levels of anxiety in foreign language classrooms, understanding students’ difficulties with course content and communication in the target language should be evaluated. Following the development of the “Foreign Language Classroom Anxiety Scale” (Horwitz, et al., 1986), Elaine Horwitz (1986) conducted her own study to test the reliability and validity of the scale. The results concluded that foreign language anxiety accounted for 25% of the variance in final course grades. While this study examines the extent of grades and test scores, Horwitz emphasizes that there should be more research done on the actual level of proficiency rather than just performance on assignments and tasks to have a more holistic look at the degree to which anxiety inhibits acquisition and retrieval of the second language (1986, p. 561). Through contemplative writing, we can overcome the barrier of foreign language anxiety and create situations where there are fewer anxiety-inducers and pressure to succeed. In turn, we will create more invitations and openness to learning. Along with this, Strait et al. (2020) researched how mindfulness affects college students’ stress and anxiety levels in their study “Classroom Mindfulness Education Effects on

70  Madeleine Rosa Meditation Frequency, Stress and Self-Regulation.” She found that with classroom mindfulness, students increased their meditation practices, and their stress levels decreased (Strait et al., 2020, p. 165). It was not concluded whether the levels of stress were a result of the home meditation or the classroom mindfulness, but it was clear that mindfulness did lead to more meditation which promotes reduced stress. If we continue to develop meditations and mindfulness practices with students throughout the duration of the course, they can develop the skills and resources to continue on their own time and adopt mindfulness as a life skill. Introspection, the act of looking inward at oneself, is a primary factor of contemplative writing. Introspection emerges through meditation and contemplative activities in this type of curriculum. King and Mackey’s “Research Methodology in Second Language Studies: Trends, Concerns, and New Directions” (2016) features a qualitative introspective diary study of a TESOL educator in Brazil [Schmidt] who learned Portuguese as he taught English to Brazilian students. Throughout his experience, Schmidt wrote in his journal and he noticed that in his entries, he would pick up the writing forms of Portuguese before he could speak them. His consciousness was emerging through the language as he employed it more for personal tasks rather than just in an academic setting (King & Mackey, 2016, p. 210). Shvidko (2015) recounts a similar experience in her intensive English program early in her academic career. In her blog for the TESOL International Association, she provides tips to “Develop Writing Skills through Personal Journals” including consistency, reflection, and aesthetic appeals (Shvidko, 2015). Through the act of contemplative writing, we must remind students that this journal is for them and them only; teachers will not be reading it, and it does not need to be a complex novel writing the story of their life and how they do everything in their day. The purpose of this is to put their emotions into words and let their ideas flow as much as possible. When evaluating methods of teaching EAL, it is critical that we do not only look at Western ideals of teaching. Looking at Chinese philosophy and Buddhism is helpful to understand how we are connected with nature as human beings through holism and connectivity. This mindset values being connected to the world around us and creating higher levels of consciousness by being an active part of our surroundings. Fung’s chapter “The Spirit of Chinese Philosophy” (2005) explores “this worldly” philosophy, which values relational affairs and moral values. By looking at the world this way, and encouraging our students to do so, we are creating a level of critical consciousness that Freire encourages to be free of the oppressors in place. Freire’s ideas align with those of “thisworldly” philosophy, drawing on both reflective thinking and “thinking on thinking.” In Pedagogy of Freedom (2000a), Freire highlights that “teaching requires curiosity,” he states that “the educator who is dominated by authoritarian or paternalistic attitudes that suffocate the

Contemplative Creative Writing as a Pedagogical Practice  71 curiosity of the learner finishes by suffocating his or her own curiosity” (p.79). In using mindfulness practices in our praxis, we can help students run with the curiosity they are building throughout their experiences. The purpose of this method is to draw on different aspects of their daily lives and create more, richer experiences out of their introspection and observation. This development of curiosity can also help students to evaluate their conversation practices and learn from their discussions.

Turning Practice into Praxis In order to create a dialogue about this practice in a classroom setting, teachers can provide examples of what students can center their focus on before beginning the journaling and meditation activities. As mentioned above, Shvidko encourages students to write reflectively and emotionally, appealing to aesthetics and consistency. Students do not need to share what they will talk about with anyone if they do not want to, but they are welcome to share their experiences from the day or week so far that have intrigued them. Then, the teacher can facilitate the journaling and present them with “challenges” to write about. The instructor can choose to do the activity at either the beginning or end of class as a way for students to decompress from their influx of ideas and discussion topics. Each time during class would have its own benefits. At the beginning of class time, students begin talking about a topic with a clear and more focused mindset. At the end of class, students can wrap up their ideas and go forth with the day, having the comfort of knowing that they are actively working through nuanced ideas and concepts while taking the time for self-care. After regularly practicing this activity, informative dialogue with a basis of rapport can be built between the students and teacher as learning from one another and through experiences. Teachers can also implement a variety of writing styles into their daily journals for students to learn from and provide examples before doing so. This can range from tasking students with writing a professional email to one of their teachers, writing a short story about their childhood, writing a letter to a friend or family member, or outlining an expository essay about a topic they are working on in class outside of this activity. This practice, in turn, will familiarize them with the writing process of different types of writing and help them to practice them in a judgment-free space similar to the experience that Schmidt had when he taught in Brazil (King & Mackey, 2016).

A Mindfulness Exercise: Introducing Mindfulness from the Start Contemplative creative writing would ideally begin on the first day of class. Instructors should explain that the purpose of the activity is for students to better understand themselves in relation to the course

72  Madeleine Rosa content and that the instructor will also be participating in them so that they can experience them together. Once questions about the activity are answered and students feel comfortable, begin with a threeminute breathing meditation. Welcome students to clear their minds completely, focusing only on their breathing but being non-judgmental if their mind is wandering or unfocused. Have them note the breath, how it feels when it is entering and leaving the nostrils, how the diaphragm expands and contracts, how the shoulders rise and fall. Once the meditation is complete, students and the instructor should journal about how they felt throughout the silent contemplation. Advise students not to write about how often their mind wandered, but, rather, what they focused on to get back to the meditative state or if there were things that they noticed during the meditation that they had not noticed before. Once students are done with the journaling, instruct them to draw out four boxes in their journal and label them “Self,” “Classmates,” “Family,” and “Strangers.” In each box, they should write down as many material objects that they can think of that represent how they show themselves to the audience labeled on each box. It can be anything from their favorite book to their favorite pair of shoes, or even a flag from a country they are from. Once they are done filling in each box, have them go through each box and circle items that made it into every box, put a star next to the items that only made it in a few boxes, and then underline objects that are only in one box. Then, they should journal about the items that made it into all of the boxes and talk about what makes those items unique to themselves. Some questions you can ask to inspire their journaling are: • • • • • • •

What didn’t make it into every box, why do you hide it from the others around you? Are there items that made it just into your personal box and not any of the others? How would you feel if you were a stranger looking into your stranger box? What made you choose these items? How do you use objects in the world to portray who you are? Would you be yourself without material items? Explore any of these questions further, you don’t necessarily have to answer them, you could also develop further questions to revisit at a later time.

This meditation explores Krashen’s theory of integrative motion alongside contemplative pedagogy. The agreement between the students’ self-perception and their perception of speakers in their target language

Contemplative Creative Writing as a Pedagogical Practice  73 influences their behavior (Krashen, 1981, p. 27). The students are exploring their own identity and how they show that to those around them to further understand the connection between themselves and their target audiences. “Individuals who were more aware of feelings are more sensitized to details and specific assets of the second language and reflect this in language speaking” (Krashen, 1981, p. 32). Another mindfulness practice that can be done is a walking meditation. This meditation is a bit different from the previous one because it will be done on students’ own time rather than during class time, so it should be done later in the course when students are more confident in their mindfulness practices. Have students find a place that is special to them, or a place that they have not been to but have been meaning to go, and set their phones to silent. Students should walk through the area of their choice for ten minutes. Some grounding questions that can be presented to the students prior to the meditation are: • • •

What is the quality of light? How does the air feel on your skin? Is it hot or cold, dry or humid? Is there grass near you?

Advise students to look for items in their path that they might not necessarily focus on too much during a typical walk. Then, find a rock, flower, stick, etc. that they might have not noticed if they were not looking for it and take it home with them. Once their walk is done, they should return home and try to write down different sensory feelings that they witness and reflect on how those sensory feelings made their emotions respond. Then, take the item that they picked and place it wherever they intend to work, including homework, personal writing, or anything that can make them feel out of touch with the world. In this space, have them take two minutes, holding the item and practicing breathing while being aware of how the item that they are holding is grounding them and connecting them to the Earth and the outside world. Questions that they consider are: • • • • •

How does the work you’re doing connect you to the world? Do you feel satisfied with it? Does that rock, flower, branch, etc. feel heavy in your hand, or light? Is it cold on your palm? Does it remind you of another place or time?

Whenever students are feeling disconnected from the world, or even want to just practice their breathing, that item is there to show them that they are in fact connected. They can hold it and meditate with it, or just keep it there as a symbol of the work that they are doing to stay connected to themselves and their community.

74  Madeleine Rosa

Moving Forward The conclusion of a class using contemplative practices and creative writing should give students tips to keep up the habit of both mindfulness and meditation. Throughout the course, teachers should welcome feedback from their students about this activity. Would they like more guidance in their writing? Would they prefer a long meditation time and short writing time or vice versa? Do they feel that they are learning from this activity and it has helped them with both their speaking and writing skills? Do they want to implement a more conversational portion into this activity so that they can interact with their peers? Other questions can also be asked depending on the classroom environment and how the teacher believes the students are responding to the activity. The value of contemplative creative writing can be discussed in a classroom discussion among the students and teachers, or teachers can create an anonymous box to leave out throughout the year so that students can leave feedback without the pressure of speaking up in class and then the teacher can make changes according to the students’ feedback. By welcoming discussion and encouraging students to speak to their teachers, we are moving out of the gatekeeping aspect of teacher–student relationships, into an authoritative-freedom and balanced classroom where we respect students’ insights and welcome them as we shape the ways we teach them. The most important point of contemplative creative writing is that students are gaining life skills that they can use outside of the classroom and can use independently after the course is over. I have followed the mantra “you only get out of it what you put into it” for as long as I can remember, and I believe that this ideal follows that same mantra when it comes to working toward mindfulness.

References Freire, P. (2000a). Pedagogy of freedom: Ethics, democracy, and civic courage. Rowman & Littlefield Publishers. Freire, P. (2000b). Pedagogy of the oppressed (30th Anniversary). Bloomsbury Academic. Fung, Y. L. (2005). The spirit of Chinese philosophy. Routledge. Horwitz, E. K. (1986). Preliminary Evidence for the Reliability and Validity of a Foreign Language Anxiety Scale. TESOL Quarterly, 20(3), 559–562. Horwitz, E. K., Horwitz, M. B., & Cope, J. (1986). Foreign Language Classroom Anxiety. The Modern Language Journal, 70(2), 125–132. King, K. Mackey, A. (2016). Research Methodology in Second Language Studies: Trends, Concerns, and New Directions. The Modern Language Journal, 100, 209–227. Krashen, S. D. (1981). Second Language Acquisition and Second Language Learning. Pergamon Press Inc., Oxford.

Contemplative Creative Writing as a Pedagogical Practice  75 Moffett, J. (1982). Writing, Inner Speech, and Meditation. College English, 44(3), 231–246. Owen-Smith, P. (2017). The Contemplative Mind: A Vision of Higher Education for the 21st Century. In The contemplative mind in the scholarship of teaching and learning. (pp. 100–119). essay, Indiana University Press. Rendón, L I., Nepo, M. (2014). Sentipensante (sensing/thinking) pedagogy: Educating for wholeness, social justice and liberation. Stylus Publishing, LLC. Shakouri, N. (2015). Adrenaline and SLA: Why Anxiety? Journal of Education Research and Behavioral Sciences, 4(3), 89–92. Shvidko, E. (2015, July 10). Developing Writing Skills Through Personal Journals [web log]. Retrieved from http://blog.tesol.org/ developing-writing-skills-through-personal-journals/ Strait, J. E., Strait, G. G., McClain, M. B. Casillas, L., Streich, K., Harper, K., & Gomez, J. (2020). Classroom Mindfulness Education Effects on Meditation Frequency, Stress, and Self-Regulation. Teaching of Psychology, 47(2), 162–168. Yulianto, S. W. (2015). Critical Pedagogy Principles in Teaching EFL Reading. English Review, 4(1), 25–38. Zajonc, A. (2013). Contemplative Pedagogy: A Quiet Revolution in Higher Education. New Directions for Teaching and Learning, 2013, 83–94.

6 Creative Writing in English as an Additional Language Classrooms Madison Price

Introduction: A Personal Reflection on Language Learning In the rural public school district where I grew up, we could learn a foreign language in the ninth grade. As a freshman in high school, I signed up for Spanish, eager to learn a new language. The novelty of learning a foreign language soon wore off as the vocabulary and grammar only relentlessly increased. After three years of learning the language, and earning high grades in all three classes, I decided to take a break and focus on other subjects. A freshman again, but this time, in college, I registered for a French class. Much like the Spanish classes before, I anticipated courses laden with vocabulary and heavy emphasis on grammar. And, like Spanish, I achieved A’s but retained very little once the course concluded. I could pass a pop quiz and score well on exams, but when it came to actually using the language, I was stuttering and cloddish. The final for that class consisted of a test with multiple choice, matching, fill-in-the-blanks, short answer—and, also, an oral examination. I still remember, vividly, my first oral examination in Madame’s office, gracelessly stumbling over the words and ultimately forgetting everything I had learned that semester in the confines of the basement classroom. Somehow, miraculously, I passed the course with an A and moved on to continue my undergraduate education. I did not take another French class until I studied abroad in France a few years later. There, I was exposed to the language in an avant-garde way; our class consisted of three students, and our teacher had minimal English skills. Her way of teaching consisted of pictures, gestures, and slow explanations in French until we finally understood, much like one would teach a child. This enforced my listening skills and allowed me to stumble and work through the language in a frustrating, but effective, manner. That summer, I also took another course, a creative writing course. This class, also, was unlike any other I had ever taken before. The class was in English, my primary language, but I felt like I had never before worked so closely with the English language. Every day, we were reading and writing and I would spend hours each day working on a piece for class DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-7

Creative Writing in English as an Additional Language Classrooms  77 the next day. I slowly began to realize that despite my proficiency in the language, I still had so much to learn. Perhaps it was because of the French class that I was analyzing and studying language, any language, so closely. Later, back in the United States, and in some intermediate-level French class, I was assigned a short writing assignment that involved creative writing. I still remember the task; write a story based on a picture of some idyllic, rolling landscape, only a paragraph long. This assignment, seemingly undemanding, tested my proficiency in grammar, vocabulary, and writing abilities. Other than the occasional examination with an openended question, I had never been asked to write creatively in French. Once I began writing, I realized my deficiencies and it became apparent just how much of my speaking and writing in French emanated from prompted conversation and posed questions. Without them, I had to decide on sentence structure, verbs, original vocabulary, and content. Writing, especially creatively, requires an adept grasp on the language in which you are writing. It requires reflection of oneself, critical thinking, and a competence of the language to effectively convey one’s meaning. Years later, reflecting on my learning experiences that summer in France and in my intermediate-level French classes, I thought, why not combine them? Coupled with personal experience and teachings from graduate-level courses, I began to construct my own pedagogy and think of how I can teach my future students English as an additional language (EAL) using creative writing.

Critical Thinking In Teaching Critical Thinking, author bell hooks (2010) discusses the dismantling of—and then the need to rebuild—critical thinking skills in students. In her book, hooks (2010) writes that “most children are taught early on that thinking is dangerous,” and they then “start fearing the thinking mind” and end up forgetting how much of a “passionate, pleasurable activity” thinking could be (p. 8). This causes students, often later in college, to “come to dread thinking” and, with the encouragement of professors, will begin to practice their freedom of thinking and explore the “joy and power of thinking itself” (p. 8). She then, in Chapter 3, introduces the idea of implementing engaged pedagogy. According to hooks, engaged pedagogy is incorporated into classrooms “to restore students’ will to think, and their will to be fully self-actualized” (hooks, 2010, p. 8). In Chapter 3, “Engaged Pedagogy,” hooks calls for teachers to be aware of their students and their capacity for learning in the classrooms in an attempt to empower and reach self-actualization (hooks, 2010, p. 21). Through this engaged pedagogy, students can realize their potential and redefine power relationships in the classroom, establishing a “mutual relationship between teacher and students that nurtures the growth of both parties” (p. 22).

78  Madison Price The form of engaged pedagogy that hooks (2010) discusses comes into existence through the process of conversation, discussed in Chapter 8. The chapter begins, “Engaged pedagogy produces self-direction learners, teachers, and students who are able to participate fully in the production of ideas” (hooks, 2010, p. 43). Already, hooks is connecting critical thinking to engaged pedagogy and then to the concept of conversation. Conversation can be a “key to knowledge acquisition” (hooks, 2010, p. 44) and the discussion of topics with others is something that we can remember and reflect on as conversations can be memorable. This way of exchanging information and ideas can encourage critical thinking and allow for dialectal exchange (hooks, 2010, p. 44) especially in a classroom setting. Paulo Freire’s “problem-posing” practice which he describes as being a change from the “banking concept” in that it “breaks with the vertical patterns characteristic of banking education” (2020, p. 80), because “banking education anesthetizes and inhibits creative power, problem-posing education involves a constant unveiling of reality” (Freire, 2020, p. 81). Both authors endorse use of conversation and dialogue within a classroom to enable learning and agency of students and teachers.

Critical Pedagogy For teachers, it is important to recognize the “political nature of knowledge and education” (Yulianto, 2015, p. 26) in consideration of their class and students. Jeyaraj and Harland (2014) state that “Critical pedagogy is based on the premise education can make the world a better place,” and “allows for the social, economic, political, and religious contradictions experienced in everyday life to be interrogated and urges for improvements in society” (p. 344). Considering the field of TESOL and how critical pedagogy can be utilized within classrooms, there are immense opportunities for educators to make changes. Changes like implementing dialogic teaching, creating assignments that give students the chance to think critically, and allowing students to ask questions freely are some examples that may be outside of a standard, non-critical pedagogy classroom. Jeyaraj and Harland (2014) observe, “Academics who utilized critical pedagogies in their teaching had many opportunities to create transformative experiences for their students” (p. 349). If utilized within the classroom, critical pedagogy and dialogue can help to reconstruct students’ ability to think critically that was de-established at some point earlier in their education. By practicing this critical pedagogy and classroom conversation, it is anticipated that students will learn how to, again, think critically and will be encouraged to do so within the classroom. Then, students can apply these skills outside of the classroom. Implementing pedagogy to engage students to think critically and utilize classroom

Creative Writing in English as an Additional Language Classrooms  79 discourse can re-establish skills that they may have lost due to the discouragement of critical thinking in their former classes. In an EAL classroom, using critical pedagogy can give students the opportunity to do more than just learn English. By incorporating critical pedagogy into this type of class, students could begin to question and criticize power structures as they are learning a dominant language, which they can then apply outside of class. Students can also be encouraged to question their identity as students, and their identity separate from being students. It is my duty as a future educator to help students curate these skills so they can apply them in all modes of their lives.

Critical Pedagogy and Creative Writing There is a need for change in the educational system. With the deconstruction of critical thinking in young minds (hooks, 2010) and the dissuasion of creativity, students are passively learning through the banking-method of teaching. This form of teaching, especially when it comes to EAL teaching, will not allow students to realize their potential, regain agency, or discover their capacity for EAL learning. Paulo Freire (1998) writes, “to know how to teach is to create possibilities for the construction and production of knowledge rather than to be engaged simply in a game of transferring knowledge” (p. 49) in his Pedagogy of Freedom. Freire (2020) explains how “banking” can impede critical thinking and creativity and how it “resists dialogue” (p. 83). Forms of EAL teaching can encourage “banking” with the repetitive memorization of vocabulary and laconic grammar teaching. It leaves little to be discussed, and students find themselves pressured to memorize foreign languages. Through curiosity and dialogue, teachers can evoke knowledge. “What is really essential in this process is that both the teacher and the students know that open, curious questioning, whether in speaking or listening, is what grounds them mutually—not a simple passive pretense at dialogue” (Freire, 1998, p. 81). Because “there is no single ‘how to do’ CP that fits with every context of classroom” (Yulianto, 2015, p. 28), teachers must be reflective in their practices. This enforces the need for teachers to be aware, and to know who their students are. Each student is an individual with their own interests, story, and feelings; this individuality is hard to leave outside of the classroom for each lesson only to sit at a desk and work on memorizing a foreign language as the teacher “banks.” Jeyaraj and Harland (2014) state how, in their study of critical pedagogy in ELT, “students learned their new language through ideas that truly mattered to them instead of learning through neutral knowledge contexts” (p. 343). They conclude “that critical pedagogy requires a balance between critical reflection and action” as teachers react and adapt to changes within their classroom (Jeyaraj & Harland, 2014, p. 343). This emphasizes the need for more

80  Madison Price consideration and use of critical pedagogy when teaching EAL, and how marginalization can occur, and the lack of personalization of learning. With this in mind, teachers can adapt their pedagogy to enhance and center student learning. Forms of writing, namely, creative writing, cannot be “banked” and use a form of thinking and learning that cannot merely be “transferred.” I argue that creative writing would be hard to “bank” because of the need for creativity and originality. A teacher could “bank” by telling the students this is how you write creatively, but, ultimately, students cannot just replicate writing exactly in a way that is not plagiarism. One way I propose this is by incorporating forms of creative writing into EAL classroom instruction.

Creative Writing and Pedagogy Rationale The summer that I studied in France left me with a newfound appreciation of the power of language. While there, I discovered more about myself as a writer during those hours I spent typing away at my keyboard or scribbling in the small notebook I took to carrying around. In the writing class, we worked with various genres, both reading and writing. After taking both the writing course and French class, I continued my education, working my way through my BA in English. When I wasn’t feeling overwhelmed with school or suffering from academic writer’s block, I found myself writing for personal enjoyment. I attempted my pen at poetry, wrote short stories, and even some novel-length pieces that will never be seen by the eyes of others. But, after hundreds of thousands of words written primarily for myself, I still have much to learn about the English language. It is amazing just how many ways one can say something. If students were asked to creatively write a paragraph in their L1 of the same photograph—say, a picture of a young girl holding a flower—each story would be different. The stories that were similar in nature would use different phrasing, different vocabulary, and different styles. However, each paragraph would be based on the same photograph. Slowly, I began to be humbled by language and the great power words hold. Writing creatively has immense possibilities, and I believe potential for EAL teaching. If, from experience, writing creatively in my L1 proves to hold many possibilities when it comes to ways to communicate ideas, perhaps transferring this to EAL teaching would allow students a way to learn and master EAL through creative writing in a fun, yet personal, way.

Creative Writing and Pedagogy: Suggestions for Pedagogical Practices That summer I spent studying abroad led me to pursue a degree in TESOL, and now I have been exploring ways to incorporate creative

Creative Writing in English as an Additional Language Classrooms  81 writing into my future classroom. Upon reading Pedagogy of the Oppressed, I was drawn to the concept of “dialogue” and incorporating a dialogic approach in my teaching. Through this course and various readings, I have been thinking about how to construct my pedagogy, and how to apply what I have learned to my future teaching. How do I take theory and incorporate it into practice? While reading Freire and bell hooks, I was, again, intrigued by the idea of dialogue in the classroom. But, because of what and how I hope to teach, I needed to figure out how to include dialogic teaching in an English class that uses creative writing. As a current graduate student, I have no experience teaching and all of my proposed practices are based on personal experience, observation, and academic theory. However, while reflecting on my past experiences, mainly the summer classes that I took in France, I began to construct what would become my future pedagogy. For this section, I recommend a series of activities and assignments to incorporate EAL learning and teaching with creative writing. I believe it is our duty as educators to curate students’ critical thinking that has, likely, been discouraged and deconstructed previously during their education. Upon reflection, I was able to relate my own experiences, or lack thereof, to what hooks (2010) writes in Teaching Critical Thinking. I believe it is necessary to dismantle the current practices that encourage, or even demand, the deconstruction of thinking and critical thinking skills in students. As a future educator, I ask myself how, how do I do this? Since my future classroom that I imagine is filled with adults or young adults, likely these students have already been taught to fear thinking (hooks, 2010, p. 8). Knowing the students in the seats that fill the classroom is only the beginning. As teachers, we must also understand the students. We must know how to engage them in learning, know their limits, know their strengths, and we must attempt to utilize those strengths to create a learning environment that will let them thrive. To do this, encouraging conversation and creating room for discussion will allow students to question and share “wit and wisdom” that will stimulate “our capacity to think critically” and allow “us to engage in dialectical exchange” (hooks, 2010, p. 44). One way to do this is through a daily journaling assignment that will allow students to both reflect upon themselves and for the teacher to learn more about their students. Rosa (2021) proposes a contemplative creative writing and journaling activity. She defines contemplative creative writing as “a classroom activity implemented to enhance students’ involvement in learning in order to learn from their own experiences” (Rosa, 2021, p. 2). A proposed activity involves teachers explaining the purpose of the activity and how it relates to the course, providing time to ask and answer questions, and then a few minutes for breathing meditation. Then, students will take time to journal and reflect on what they write, categorizing them to various people in their lives (Rosa, 2021, p. 9).

82  Madison Price Drawing on this, students could journal at the beginning of each class, but then be asked to journal about their language learning journey. Incorporating mindfulness and meditation into the beginning of each class, or in the beginning of some classes, could help to alleviate student anxiety and promote awareness of their feelings and identity in EAL classes. Another activity I would like to incorporate into future teaching would be translanguaging. Students in EAL classes could, without penalty, incorporate other languages into their writing. For example, an assignment could involve writing a poem about their favorite things to do, their favorite place to visit, their childhood best friend, or more. In it, they could be free to use other languages as they wish. This translanguaging in creative writing would be encouraged as “to accommodate diverse literacy traditions—not keep them divided and separate” (Canagarajah, 2006, p. 603). This would, in turn, allow for us to reject “treating writers as passive, conditioned by their language and culture,” and to “treat them as agentive, shuttling creatively between discourses to achieve their communicative objectives” (p. 591). Not only can students explore their literacy in EAL, they can also discuss their culture and cultural differences. Sharma (2015) states that writing in genres related to literacy narratives revealed cultural differences and could then reflect on epistemological independence, authority, and agencies within their own societies (p. 106). According to Sharma, literacy narratives are “frames of meaning that are culturally situated and epistemologically significant” (2015, p. 108). Further, Sharma writes that literacy stories “can greatly promote students’ development of critical sensibilities, capacity for intellectual judgment, independence as writers and makers of knowledge, self-confidence and self-respect, and, in short, their epistemological agency” (2015, p. 109). Other assignments such as short-story writing, playwriting, poetry, blog posts, and narratives (plus more) could all be incorporated into EAL classes. These assignments will not only test the learners’ knowledge and competency of the language, but will also allow them opportunities to explore their identity. It is my hope that with use of some of these assignments and activities, students will not only improve their literacy in EAL, but also recognize their identity and how it relates to their language learning. A study on poetry and creative pedagogy concluded that “the creative writing pedagogy provided space for learners’ voices, and it is hoped that these learners may approach subsequent EAP writing tasks with active engagement and awareness to the potential of their language use” (Rosenhan & Galloway, 2019, p. 11). In this study, it was stated that, creativity can help learners to shore up their sense of identity during the voice-threatening process of learning another language. Creative pedagogies highlight that the English language is not solely

Creative Writing in English as an Additional Language Classrooms  83 determined by rule-governed structures that demand conformity, but is open to dynamic ways of subversion. (Rosenhan & Galloway, 2019, p. 11) This above quote enforces the use of creative writing in language learning classes to prevent the loss of identity. Given the chance to explore different genres of writing, students can find their voice and cultivate their identity while writing about what is meaningful to them. After writing is done, there is then the matter of engaging in discussion and dialogue. Teachers can provide several opportunities for this both in and outside of class. Online platforms that allow for open discussion, even some that allow for anonymous posting, could be assigned outside of class. This allows students to give and receive feedback on their work and the work of others. Some class sessions could be assigned “reading” days where students bring a piece of writing that they had worked on and then randomly swap with another student. Then, each student reads aloud a piece of writing that isn’t theirs. After, students could be prompted with questions about the pieces to engage in discussion. The classroom space should be one of discussion and ideas, allowing students to openly discuss, ask questions, and create change. Part of this proposed pedagogy also involves participation of the instructor and flexibility. I think it is important to be reflexive, to acknowledge what does and doesn’t work, to listen to students, and to create an environment open to opportunities. “It is our job as educators to make sure that our students are not feeling alone in the world as they try to navigate its naming” (Rosa, 2021, p. 4), and in my future teaching, I plan to implement some of these practices into my classes to help students to not only grow as a student, but as a person; and to learn EAL, but to also connect with other students and explore their identity.

Discussion In my classroom, I hope to use writing as a way to create dialogue, as a way for students to engage in a discussion which will not only improve their EAL skills, but the potential for other language skills, critical thinking skills, and sense of identity. To do this, students may write a poem or a story about whatever they want but, afterward, they can use their story, their words, their characters, to engage in dialogue. Their stories will be read by others—interpreted, analyzed, discussed—and thus will create room for discussion, for dialogue. When they are writing, even creatively, they are finding their voice. This voice may help to propel them to engage in discussion in small groups, within the classroom and outside of the classroom. Not only is writing cathartic, but it also allows for imagination to explore the impossibilities and has the potential for students to, most

84  Madison Price importantly, have fun while working on their EAL learning. I mentioned my personal experiences with language learning and writing. That summer writing class that I took involved daily reading and writing. After writing our own pieces, we had the opportunity to read our pieces out loud with the class. The class was small, but we had all become comfortable with each other over the course of those weeks. After reading each piece, the members of the class would each comment on it. Some comments were lengthy and led to a full-class discussion. Others were small compliments and then the next person would go. With this style of class, we felt as if we all had a voice, and our voices were heard. Perhaps it was because of the intimacy of writing and sharing our stories that led to this sense of community. Also, I believe it was because of the role that our professor had in the class. She was the authoritative figure; she would allot us our grade and had that power over us. Yet, she still made us comfortable and wanted our voices to be heard and encouraged discussion. This is what I would like to have in my future classroom, this sense of community and this open discourse that Freire describes. Creative writing is a subject that, I believe, cannot be part of “banking.” Creative writing needs that dialogue within a classroom to be successful. Students need to feel like they have a safe place to explore and discuss their writings and this will encourage their learning. “The teacher presents the material to the students for their consideration, and reconsiders her earlier considerations as the students express their own,” as “the role of the problem-posing educator is to create” (Freire, 2020, p. 81). I plan to follow this as much as possible in my future classroom, as creating an environment and an open dialogue between students and teachers has been immensely beneficial to me in my previous creative writing class.

Moving Forward As the world moves to a more global state, the rise of EAL speakers has increased, therefore increasing the need for a way of global and crosscultural communication and TESOL instructors. I have discussed my interest in incorporating forms of creative writing into my future classrooms to encourage EAL learning. Identity is important to consider when learning a language, and, I think that by utilizing it, can encourage language learning. Through writing creatively, I hope to embrace individuality and identity, hoping that by doing so, students will be able to learn in a way special to them. Telling a story, writing about a personal experience, or incorporating their first language into a poem are ways that students can use language learning to understand their relationship with language and learning all while promoting their sense of self.

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References Canagarajah, A. S. (2006). Toward a writing pedagogy of shuttling between languages: Learning from multilingual writers. College English, 68(6), 589–604. https://doi.org/10.2307/25472177 Freire, P. (1998). Pedagogy of freedom: Ethics, democracy, and civic courage. New York: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc. Freire, P. (2020). Pedagogy of the oppressed. (50th Anniversary Edition). New York: Bloomsbury Publishing Inc. hooks, b. (2010). Teaching critical thinking: Practical wisdom. New York, NY: Routledge. Jeyaraj, J. J., & Harland, T. (2014). Transforming teaching and learning in ELT through critical pedagogy: An international study. Journal of Transformative Education, 12(4), 343–355. https://doi.org/10.1177/1541344614550042 Rosa, M. (2021). Contemplative creative writing as a pedagogical practice. [Unpublished essay]. Indiana University of Pennsylvania. Rosenhan, C., & Galloway, N. (2019). Creativity, self-reflection and subversion: Poetry writing for global Englishes awareness raising. Elsevier, 84, 1–13. https:// doi.org/10.1016/j.system.2019.04.005 Sharma, G. (2015). Cultural schemas and pedagogical uses of literacy narratives: A reflection on my journey with reading and writing. College Composition and Communication, 67(1), 104–110. Yulianto, S. W. (2015). Critical pedagogy principles in teaching EFL reading. English Review: Journal of English Education, 4(1), 25–38.

7 Personalized Learning for English as an Additional Language (EAL) Learners Fostering Agency and Dismantling the Banking Approach Jonelle Dongilla Introduction Differentiated Instruction (DI) has long been the status quo tool for K-12 English as an Additional Language (EAL) classrooms. DI is when a teacher tailors the learning environment to meet the needs of a diverse group of learners. There can be differentiation in the content, the process in which learners are engaged, or in the product. It is a useful tool and quite effective but still teacher-centered, still in the framework of the banking model. DI is something the best-intentioned teacher chooses for her students. Personalized Learning (PL), on the other hand, built on the principles of DI, arms students with the tools to make their own decisions on content, pathways, and strategies. PL speaks back to the “banking” model (Freire, 2000) of education and politely dismisses differentiated instruction. Freire would argue that PL is more liberating. PL is an approach that fosters agency so students can attain the autonomy to become lifelong learners. PL cannot be pinned down to a mere definition because of the complexity in which it is “personalized”; it looks different in every classroom, for every student, for every teacher. It defies the banking philosophy of education. Scholars have attempted a comprehensive definition, often using personalized learning synonymously with “customized learning” or “adaptive learning,” and recognize the advantages of these types of learning but call for more research as this is a changing and multifaceted construct for learning (Liu et al., 2017). Though a clear definition for personalized learning is a critical goal that will inform more research (Schmid & Petko, 2019; Shemshack & Spector, 2020), the common goal of PL is to meet students where their needs, interests, and learning styles converge. PL is a multifaceted approach that thrives within the framework of different teaching methods. By considering the needs of each individual learner, the instructor carefully plans opportunities that ensure each specific learner gets what he or she needs. At the highest level of personalization, students not only know what they need but are able to seek out DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-8

Personalized Learning for EAL Learners  87 their own educational opportunities and create their own forms of assessment to demonstrate their learning processes and outcomes. PL aims to increase student engagement, provide opportunities to grow agency and autonomy, and teaches students to become self-directed learners without ignoring collaboration as one of many in a network of resources. These are lifelong skills. More humanly, with practices in place early on to increase knowledge of students and allow collaboration, teachers use these spaces to cultivate curiosity, which leads to inquiry.

Agency and Autonomy in PL At the heart of Personalized Learning is agency. Advocating for oneself as a learner while acquiring the linguistic skills to do so is a challenge for English learners. Eventually, autonomy can be attained when their instructional journey has been thoughtfully framed with praxis, teaching routines, mindsets, strategies, and skills that will be of value to them beyond the classroom walls. One teacher can help students to develop knowledge of the English language, but it takes a community of learners to maintain curiosities, critical perspectives, and liberating learning experiences. Freire (2000) called this maintenance a permanent fixture in any learner’s transformation and claimed autonomy could not be “achieved without a true communion with the people” (p. 30). There is solidarity in knowledge and meaning making. The term “learner autonomy” was coined by Henri Holec (1981), who describes it as “the ability to take charge of one’s own learning” (p. 3). This is a broad definition which can include different processes of learning or take the shape of the institutional environment. Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed (2000) does not only give further insight into why autonomy is important. Praxis, Freire claims, cannot be reduced to empty words or action without reflection. “Human activity requires theory to illuminate it” (p. 125). He again stresses a critical reflection on the relationship of theory and practice in Pedagogy of Freedom (1998), stating, “Education is formed and reformed as he/she teaches” (p. 31). It is a transformative process, and Freire reiterates the fact that we are “unfinished.” He further solidifies the relationship between epistemological curiosity to methodological rigor, charging teachers to respect the knowledge students bring to the table, and foster criticality through critical reflection (Freire, 1998).

Pedagogical Tension There are several models of learner autonomy in language learning, but for this chapter I wish to examine an approach I use in my own classroom that was successful in increasing autonomy for the learner’s sake. I teach English to Speakers of Other Languages (ESOL) in a rural middle and senior high

88  Jonelle Dongilla school and have been using DI to accommodate different learning styles, competencies, and English language proficiencies of students for many years. I do not have the data to neither support nor deny its effectiveness on language learning and development yet, but the Personalized Learning approach has had an observable impact on students’ social-emotional wellbeing and attitudes toward learning. I hope to engage in more critical reflection and more empirical research in the upcoming school year. Critical pedagogy also offers theoretical grounding to my practice, which I realized was lacking. I could easily identify theoretical approaches in my teaching, but I lacked the critical pedagogy to problematize practice and reflect on whether my practice reflected my beliefs. Though I value the democracy of student voice and the constructivist nature of PL, I have not instilled or prioritized “critical consciousness” in my students. This is an evident gap or tension in my pedagogy. If I am to practice critical pedagogy, I should problematize this gap and address it as I did when I discovered that PL was a better solution than merely differentiated instruction for English learners. Reflective practice is only useful if the teacher “systematically investigates a perceived problem in order to discover a solution” (Farrell, 2012, p. 14). Both Dewey’s and Schon’s work suggests that teachers can look at what is actual and occurring (theories-in-use) in their practice and compare this to their beliefs (espoused theories) about learning and teaching. This productive tension (Freeman, personal communication) between espoused theories and theories-in-use provides teachers with the opportunity to systematically look at their practice so that they can deepen their understanding of what they do and thus come to new insights about their students, their teaching, and themselves. (Farrell, 2012, p. 14) How do I continue this move toward critical pedagogy and increase critical consciousness in middle and high schoolers with varied linguistic and personal identities? For me, it is about being critical of my own pedagogy, and for the students, teaching them how to be critical of the content, their paths of expression or reception, and the strategies they use. While I can proudly state that PL is in my wheelhouse, there is still more critical work to be done. Constructivist theory and critical pedagogy are not the same. My constructivist orientation is my “current” teacher vision; my “future” teacher vision includes a move toward critical pedagogy using methodologies of constructivism to enact social justice. My “current-future” teaching vision refers to my teaching philosophy and methodologies as they are grounds for my teaching pedagogy presently, but also what I envision for my future teaching based on recent scholarship and ontological change. Simply put, it is my identity as a teacher in flux.

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The Need for Critical Pedagogy Breuing’s article “Problematizing Critical Pedagogy” (2011) solidifies and problematizes some themes for me. She validates that constructivism “has no direct relationship with social justice” despite some of her research participants defining constructivism and student-centeredness as critical pedagogy (p. 10). I am deeply embedded in my studentcentered and constructivist pedagogies and cannot claim those orientations as my definition of critical pedagogy. I will continue to apply the approaches of critical pedagogy that exist in my “current” teaching vision, but to balance that vision, I must explore more. I must inquire further how to “use education as a means to bring about a more socially just world” (p. 14). I would also like to further explore the “social justice orientation alongside its constructivist orientation,” as Breuing points out, needs more work (p. 20). In a qualitative research study of 17 participants, Breuing (2011) asked her research participants to define critical pedagogy. She found several different perspectives, “overlapping and perhaps somewhat conflicting views” from the participants (p. 14), who credited a variety of pedagogues. Breuing found the common themes of discourse, democracy, cultural literacy, poststructuralism, class, gender, race, and sexuality and suggested critical pedagogy might fit Lather’s “big tent” metaphor (p. 19). She could find no clear universal definition, but she noted there are overlapping purposes of critical pedagogy.

Addressing Pedagogical Shortcomings Using critical pedagogy as my lens, I will offer my critique of how I fall short on embodying “voice” in PL. My first issue is that I do not problematize the learning experience enough. I ask plenty of questions to stimulate discourse, but not the right questions. In an attempt to co-create and meaning make (essentially answer, name, and categorize knowledge), I lose sight of the fact that there may be more questions than answers. Answers can put the hegemonic stop to the inquiry process, while questions liberate continued learning. Second, I aim to instill the value of strategic learning through metacognition, problem-solving, self-motivated inquiry, critical thinking, and mindset so they can become autonomous learners beyond the classroom walls; however, I fail to teach criticality so that they can maintain autonomy and discern the world with a keen eye. “If the great popular masses are without a more critical understanding of how society functions, it is not because they are naturally incapable of it” (Freire & Freire, 2014, p. 96). Without criticality, my students would suffer the same blind assimilation that perpetuates much of the prejudice in this country. I must practice this critical consciousness in myself so I can teach it to them. Lastly, the most egregious gap in my pedagogy is

90  Jonelle Dongilla the element of social justice. Constructivism can be a powerful social tool for change, but my curriculum is buttoned-up in the classroom. I must facilitate ways students can bring these lessons beyond the walls to enact local and global change. These limitations in my pedagogy reflect the Western, traditional models in which I was taught. Crookes emphasizes the relevance and practicality of critical pedagogy by considering “historical inheritance,” meaning reflecting and understanding where we came from (Crookes, 2010). Critical pedagogy speaks back to these default hierarchies. It is important for me to do the same (to critically reflect on who I am and how I will be) in the hopes I can demystify this transformation for my students.

Implications of Teaching PL in Multilingual Classrooms PL as an Approach in Middle and Senior High School English learners come from a wide range of linguistic strategies and abilities. When it comes to personalizing reading, I use software that allows language learners to choose an article that matches their interests from at least three different online resources that practice a needed skill. Students usually have choice in the way they annotate the text and can also adjust the Lexile of the article on certain online platforms. I have even had students analyze their own data and prioritize the skills they need in order to increase their reading comprehension. To personalize grammar, each student takes an online diagnostic on grammar concepts relevant to beginning and emerging English Learners. The diagnostic assembles and suggests a list of grammar activities based on their results. These suggestions are personalized for each student. For the sake of practicing grammar, students can choose any activity they want to. They gauge their stamina, need, and interest in the activity and choose their own paths to proficiency in the content. When I want to focus on a specific concept, the software tells me which and what percentages of students need guided practice, so I teach that whole group, allow practice time, then embed that in the grammar outcome in a writing activity. Vocabulary sets are the most inclusive to students’ choice in the content, pathway, and strategy. For most vocabulary instruction, students choose how they want to study. Students choose Quizlet, Kahoot, paper graphic organizers, flashcards, or lists on notebook paper. Here, they choose what strategy works for them. Sometimes decisions are made sporadically where the class decides on even the delivery of the content. Even speaking and listening activities are personalized, not bound to one topic, taking up a whole period and not matching all learners who are participating in the role play. With a plethora of speaking and listening resources, both paper and digital, it is easy to use different pathways

Personalized Learning for EAL Learners  91 to reach the students—digital playlists, stations, authentic experiences outside the classroom, online video- and audio-recording, conversation cards, and a variety of vetted sources online. Students have the ability to reflect on their linguistic experiences and share their work, choosing the pathway that works best for them and content that meets their educational goals. In high school I have more freedom to personalize due to higher maturity and cognitive levels. In a flipped classroom model, I have assigned a poem for them to read, asked them to post four questions based on Webb’s Depth of Knowledge (2002), and post on Google Classroom. They must attempt to answer each other’s questions either in the post, or during our Socratic group discussion, which ultimately fuels more questioning. After two years of PL, the last project of the year was for my high school students to create their own “playlist”—a hyperlinked document that addressed the four domains of language acquisition (reading, writing, speaking, and listening) in a myriad of personalized possibilities for learning. See Figure 7.1. Students chose the content, assessment, and skills personalized to them. It was awe-inspiring to see them make such mature and autonomous decisions. Xxxx’s Playlist Start Date: TBD Daily Goal Oxford Picture Dictionary Topic 6: The Suburbs (insert personal pics here)

End Date: TBD Daily goal sheet __1. Listen to then say each new content word. __2. Cut and study picture cards. __3. Listen to then read Content Reading. Highlight new words. __4. Complete both practice pages __5. FlipGrid about the topic!

Speak/Listen

__Greetings sheet - 3 people Choice 1 - Scripts Choice 2 - Choose 4 topics on Randall’s Listening Lab from the Easy column

Your Choice

__Online Games for Topic 6 (see google classroom) __Listen to song, write the lyrics (adjectives, nouns)

Daily DuoLingo

Sign in with Google on DuoLingo first! Spend time each day on DuoLingo

Grammar

__Adjective + noun: There are clean streets and friendly people __Present continuous: Sam Jordan is washing the car.

Reading

__Read and take quiz on 5 books - www.kidsa-z.com Code: your student ID __Read “My Town” and answer questions. Talk about your town with a partner. Choice 1: GetEpic.com Code: ###### Choice 2: ReadWorks Article-a-Day Choice 3: Spanish children’s books with graphic organizer

Writing FCAs: preferences, adjs, present simple, present continuous Other Activities Daily Reflection Project!

__Write a paragraph about your town after you read “My Town.” Choice 1: Build and write 5 sentences Choice 2: Pictures to text Choice 3: Storybird __Cardstock Diorama __Matching game with partner: adjective + noun, then draw! __Write in your journal what you learned today or what goal you reached. __Create a Google Slides presentation on “My Neighborhood.” Look at a sample! Start here!

Figure 7.1  Excerpt from a newcomer playlist.

92  Jonelle Dongilla Personalized Learning is a powerful approach to language learning that promotes learner autonomy, not just in language, but in learning. It is an approach based on Constructivism and Collaborative Learning. Because PL is about “choice” and “voice,” it is more than just working collaboratively, constructing knowledge, self-directed inquiry, and language acquisition. “Voice” is in the negotiations that students make about and around their worlds; it is the struggle that students have with a concept, a group member, or even just their own emotional well-being; it is the identity shaped by the learning experience that drives future decisions and actions. It is with the element of “voice,” the embodiment of agency and autonomy in PL, that I have identified a problem in my pedagogy.

Professional Learning Communities as Catalysts for Change As part of our monthly professional development, our principal allowed teachers to form and choose whatever Professional Learning Community (PLC) we wanted. Some were project-based, some data-analysis, and others were book study groups. Ours was a group of like-minded teachers with similar teaching philosophies but taught a variety of subjects: Biology, English, History, Learning Support, ES. We chose Personalized Learning as our subject to explore. We each purchased Bray and McClaskey’s How to Personalize Learning: A Practical Guide for Getting Started and Going Deeper (2016). We read and met throughout the school year to set goals, tweak and implement activities in the book, and reflect. Our meetings were punctuated with humor, encouragement, curiosity, wisdom, and a collective urge to challenge each other and ourselves. I am grateful for the women in my PLC, and I view it as my “mode of action” (Kumaravadivelu, 2003) for confronting traditional structures and the “banking system” of education. Progressive teachers are ones who “create possibilities for the construction and production of knowledge” (Freire, 1998, p. 49) rather than transfer knowledge. Enlightened and inspired, I have been using PL in my ESOL classrooms in both the junior and senior high schools (6–12) for the past few years. A PLC is Freirean in nature. It is a transformative space for caring educators to rethink their pedagogies and share discourse, all the while learning from each other and our students. PLCs are the adult version of Personalized Learning, where we are free to grapple with theory and practice and create our own learning trajectories. The discourse we share is transformative and context driven. PLCs defy colonial constructs where teachers have choice and freedom to explore methodologies that match the needs of our students. Kumaravadivelu (2003) would consider this a post-method pedagogy because it matches his macrostrategic framework (p. 545) in which teachers choose microstrategies and techniques based on student need.

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Moving Forward: Further Reflections on PL and Critical Pedagogy It is difficult to live up to the ideology of critical pedagogy; Freire (1998) warns of the “distance between discourse and practice” (p. 63). Freire encourages continual practice that leads to virtue. He also teaches that “good sense” and “right thinking” will prevail with solid pedagogy. I naturally reflect on my practice, but critical pedagogy charges me with acting on problems and resolving tensions between practice and theory. Freire warns activism without reflection or theory to back it is empty (2000). Freire (2014) asks, “What can we do now in order to be able to do tomorrow what we are unable to do today?” (Freire & Freire, p. 115). If I can use critical pedagogy to identify oppression—in self, world, text, policy—and expose the absurdities of discrimination, then I can impart this criticality to my students. Through peaceful discourse and social justice work, together with my students, we can reimagine a more hopeful and humanizing future. Questions to Upend 1 If you are an ESOL/EAL teacher, you are no doubt differentiating instruction for your students. Good teachers use frameworks in their instruction that are grounded in learning theories of discovery, constructivism, problem-based, and connectivism. With a solid framework students thrive. In what ways can you include students to adjust or even co-build a framework for their own learning in your classroom? 2 Newcomers—the neediest and sometimes most challenging of English language learners. They must not only make a myriad of linguistic choices a day, but also must navigate the nebulous waters of different cultures. How can you use Personalized Learning, specifically playlists, to empower these students, giving them voice and choice while still maintaining effective language development? 3 Learner autonomy cannot be attained without the support of a community of learners and explicitly taught strategies. Why are dialogue and inquiry essential factors in critical pedagogy?

References Bray, B., & McClaskey, K. (2016). How to personalize learning: A practical guide for getting started and going deeper. Corwin Press. Breuing, M. (2011). Problematizing critical pedagogy. International Journal of Critical Pedagogy, 3(3), 2–23. Crookes, G. (2010). The practicality and relevance of second language critical pedagogy. English Language Teaching, 43(3), 333–348. Farrell, T. (2012). Reflecting on reflective practice: (Re)visiting Dewey and Schon. TESOL Journal, 3(1), 7–16.

94  Jonelle Dongilla Freire, P. (1998). Pedagogy of freedom: Ethics, democracy, and civic courage. Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc. Freire, P. (2000). Pedagogy of the oppressed. (30th Anniversary Edition). Continuum. Freire, P., & Freire, Ana M. A. (2014). Pedagogy of hope: Reliving pedagogy of the oppressed. Bloomsbury Academic. Holec, H. (1981). Autonomy in foreign language learning. Pergamon. Kumaravadivelu, B. (2003). Critical language pedagogy: A post-method perspectives on English language teaching. World Englishes, 22(4), 539–550. Liu, M., McKelroy, E., Corliss, S. B., & Carrigan, J. (2017). Investigating the effect of an adaptive learning intervention on students’ learning. Educational Technology Research and Development, 65(6), 1605–1625. https://doi. org/10.1007/s11423-017-9542-1 Schmid, R., & Petko, D. (2019). Does the use of educational technology in personalized learning environments correlate with self-reported digital skills and beliefs of secondary-school students? Computers & Education, 136(March), 75–86. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.compedu.2019.03.006 Shemshack, A., & Spector, J. M. (2020). A systematic literature review of personalized learning terms. Smart Learning Environments, 7(33). https://doi. org/10.1186/s40561-020-00140-9 Webb, N. L. (2002). Depth-of-knowledge levels for four content areas. Language Arts, 28(March), 1–9. https://mathed.umbc.edu/wp-content/uploads/ sites/524/2022/08/Webb_2002_DOK_Levels.pdf

8 Resisting Linguistic and Cultural Erasure in the Charter Context Challenging Critical Pedagogy Applications within the Composition Classroom Marina Palenyy Generational Literacy: Conduit of Personal Histories At the time of this writing in 2022, my mother is 71 years old and, after 21 years of living in California, she became a US citizen. A Ukrainian immigrant with an eighth-grade education and three languages in her repertoire, she does not yet fluently speak English. For many years, she studied for her citizenship exam using printed resources in Russian with bulletpoint facts about the history and governance of this country. My father, who upon arrival, got to take adult English courses and even several prenursing classes at a local community college, had become a US citizen years prior, and tutored her with militant resolve and expeditiousness. Literacy has always been an object and vehicle of the sacred. With her curly, distinct cursive, she writes letters to family back home, carefully labeling printed photographs with our ages and accomplishments inserted. Her Bible, dog-eared and well-worn, holds evidence of latenight scouring—pages trembling between her fingers, lips rendering the holy words like oil pouring. Mother tends to her home languages like songbirds in the ribcage of her heart. Tenderly, heedfully, she nurtures in her throat the remote memory of the Ukrainian village where she, as a young woman, sings a wedding song to the strumming of a guitar. As the subject of the sacred and the personal, and a conduit of interacting with the world outside of ourselves and our histories, literacy— defined in this way—can serve the classroom in a much more profound way than mere reading comprehension passages and multiple-choice questions ever could. When we deny literacy’s inherent and almost genetic hold on our identities and our abilities to connect with each other, we deny an occasion to truly educate in a meaningful and profound way.

Teacher-Scholar Philosophy According to Paulo Freire (1998), teachers are “cultural workers.” In other words, we, as teachers of students from diverse backgrounds, need DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-9

96  Marina Palenyy to be reflective and reflexive about our ideology and how our belief systems impact our interactions with our students. Given this background, what is our belief system that undergirds our teaching practices? How do our belief systems influence our pedagogical practices as teachers who interact with students from diverse backgrounds? In narrating our responses to these questions, let us also share what we teach and who we teach as well as our teaching contexts. My personal identities inform my teaching pedagogy as a cultural worker and, as such, include my gender (she/her), my home country (Ukraine), and my languages (native and primary: Russian, Ukrainian, and English), as well as my profession (high school English teacher). I see myself as a transnational individual who works to defy gendered expectations placed upon myself in my personal and professional life in the classroom, particularly when working with students from diverse backgrounds—immigrants, generation 1.5, and multilingual speakers of other languages and dialects. I see myself as someone who also labors to integrate my Ukrainian and Russian cultures (as someone who grew up in that physical and cultural border as well), and I reconcile within myself the complicated history that I carry within my body between those worlds—brothers and enemies. I also include into my list of identities my own faith journey. I seek to explicate where in myself is faith, and where the colonial ideology of the West that so insidiously amalgamates itself. In teaching language, I am keenly aware of how its religious biblical origins hold power to uphold and to celebrate people groups; the power that has also been weaponized to devalue and repress intersectional identities; has been sought to subdue and homogenize them. And since our students exist in the heavily saturated political space in which this language is used to exclude and oppress them, I work through the nuance of it within myself. This tendency begins when we expect students to suppress their whole identities while learning how to speak “proper” English and how to behave in accordance with its Westernized values, the appearance of orderliness and apparent ethos of standard English as is expressed in the systems of grammar that’s mystified and belonging so exclusively to the native speakers, a grammar that is acquired and not learned. Much of standardized testing measures this very concept of belonging. These experiences deeply inform my professional identity and the approach I take to teaching students who, like Freire states, also seek to build the fullness of their humanity in the classroom (1970/2000). The belief system that undergirds my teaching practices is firmly founded in that foundation of the classroom as the place that undeniably affirms the wholeness and worthiness of each individual student and the resources they bring to the classroom on day one. As a 33-year-old English teacher and PhD student, I am keenly aware of my linguistic and cultural privileges. Even 22 years ago, as a child in

Resisting Linguistic and Cultural Erasure in the Charter Context  97 Ukraine, I could not imagine such a luxury. Most of my privilege comes from my white skin, and my ability to perform linguistic whiteness and compartmentalize my immigrant identity when it is less convenient. Unlike many of my students, the only barriers I experienced as a teenage immigrant in California were accent bias and poverty. This informs the way I approach the topic of oppression in the classroom: with humility and curiosity to hear about student experiences and unequivocally build a space wherein they have a strong voice to self-advocate and contribute to the community in the room. Because my community college experience gave me access to higher education, I was able to grow my linguistic ability that helped mask my transnational identity, again, an option not readily available to the Black and Brown students in my classroom. My positionality, as I approach the topic of liberation, informs the way I direct and facilitate discussions with my students, as well as the way I approach writing instruction. In my local public high school, I was exposed to a community of other immigrants who have taught me about translinguistic camaraderie (here I adapt Canagarajah’s conception of the meaning of the translingual community, 2016)—where celebrating and sharing in with each other’s identities and cultures gave me a sense of belonging that was hard to come by. This is something I still observe in my classrooms today, and this phenomenon is a resource I rely on in order to optimize safety and learning in the room, a safety that does not jeopardize student autonomy and individuality. Today, in my high school classroom, I use my awareness to design a curriculum that reflects and celebrates students’ multilingual and multicultural identities. Students in my classroom explore the political implications of their Englishes (Kirkpatrick, 2010) and the perceived and inherent value of those identities tied to their linguistic expressions. I also use my translingual identity and languages to communicate myself authentically to my students, although, at times, it still gives me a complex set of emotions.

Teaching Context Very little research is available regarding the oppressive practices of charter schools toward the goal of competitive exam scores. Literacy education in a “no excuses” charter school is synonymous with high SAT and ACT scores. This means that authors of the language portion of standardized exams determine what qualifies as mastery of English literacy, what is worth preserving, and what aspects of identity are worth investing into. I say identity, because a common practice of drills often works to homogenize behaviors, speech patterns, and of course, the writing style of students. In this way, home identity and speech patterns and those of the professional setting become compartmentalized, with one identity working to

98  Marina Palenyy appease societal norms, and another working to maintain authentic connections to origin. The environment of the “no excuses” charter school contributes to erasure of any identity excess that does not serve the purpose of assimilation. And this is particularly evident within the composition classroom, a place that equally contains immeasurable potential to empower and dignify existing student identities and linguistic repertoires. For New York state schools, and charter schools especially, in the month of June, students take several 3-hour standardized exams every year. The ELA portion of the test has 3 sections totally: with 2 separate essays, and 24 multiple choice reading comprehension questions, and 8 separate passages intertwined within the exam. Students have 3 hours to interact with the passages and produce 2 genres, with about 1 minute to dedicate to each of the 24 questions. For this reason, students are inundated with timed exam practices, with isolated skills and exercises that are designed to train them to score about 85% so as to drive the school average in comparison to others in the network. Students, then, take approximately 4–5 versions of the same exam in split-timed drills, to build discipline and stamina to overcome the debilitating testing anxiety that inevitably overcomes them. Students who score well walk away with an incredible sense of accomplishment and pride; those who fail are scheduled to take it again in a mere 6 weeks, after more training. In this way, composition class is a space not for exploration, constructing, and reinforcing knowledge, or even a space for studying various forms and genres, where students can challenge themselves and each other to interact with themselves and the world. It is a boot camp for acculturation.

Critical Pedagogy: Definition and Misimplementation Critical Pedagogy aims to address the perpetuated inequity and oppression in education. Thomson-Bunn (2014) provides a number of working definitions written by scholars to help better contextualize its impact. The terms and phrases that stand out from the various definitions include “social justice”; “transform … oppressive institutions”; “students [sharing] responsibility”; “challeng[ing] the status quo”; “promot[ing] democratization”; “new ways to think critically”; students as “agents” of authority and “critical co-investigators” of reality; “question[ing] deepseated assumptions and … disempowering social practices” that exist in order to inhibit and tyrannize them; education then serving as “a humanist and liberating praxis … [toward] emancipation” of the individual; and, lastly, “overcoming authoritarianism” both in and out of the classroom (p. 2). Ironically, in pursuit of liberatory pedagogy, teachers often take on the authoritarian approach in order to influence students to buy into the new and politically trending ideology. Thus, the misimplementation of the theories causes further oppression, by a new name.

Resisting Linguistic and Cultural Erasure in the Charter Context  99 In theory, critical pedagogy declares all the appropriate attitudes that align with the call to action in education scholarship, especially regarding the composition classroom. And yet, Thomson-Bunn (2014) reports that overall CP (critical pedagogy, CP moving forward) is “failing” its liberatory goals largely due to the laborious transition from theory to praxis (Freire, 1998) as teachers seek to empower students to participate more enthusiastically in their education. Paulo Freire defined the critical approach as necessarily liberatory, and a journey away from the status quo of the banking system (1998), and yet the liberation in practice appears nominal and hypocritical at best, and as furthering oppression in the worst cases. Even while liberating ideology is beginning to make an appearance within the classroom, it is still disseminated via traditional channels and mediums that promote the status quo (students are taught to read the passage, summarize claims, provide evidence from the passage, respond through a five-paragraph essay analyzing rhetorical moves of the author. Their identity and participation with ideas in the passage is peripheral at best, even invisible). In this approach, students still do not hold the slightest authority to speak back to the text, to interact with it from their positionalities informed by their own cultures and histories, their own linguistic prowess; as a result, they are barred from critically applying this new knowledge to their worlds in the process of “co-construction of knowledge” or become centered in the classroom (Thomson-Bunn, 2014, pp. 6–10) wherein they can amalgamate prior and new knowledge without having to adopt or perform an inauthentic academic persona. Today, the lived experience and education of young people in charter schools are still compartmentalized and distinguished as separate entities in an academic hierarchy that continues to exclude them from participating in transforming society as valuable members of it, while inadvertently controlling their perception of reality, and obstructing their ability to fully integrate their multiple identities. In order to truly transform the society they are educated in, they must be given (or must take) space for authentic integration. Grammar drills and ACT boot camps do not allow for that, because test data does not allow for it. Therefore, it is not seen as valuable. This misimplementation of critical pedagogy is especially apparent in a charter school context where students are still toiling to prove their academic merit to join into the upper echelons of university scholarship; this means even if they encounter passages that are meant to liberate, in practice, they are still fixed within the vicious, breakneck speed, of the standardized testing whirlwind. Multilingual home identity is slowly replaced with the rigidity of the academic homogenized monolingual identity; and it all begins in the Composition classroom.

Student Identity and the Myth of the Noble Educator From a student perspective, this fissure between their home selves and school selves works destructively on multiple levels. Hua (2017) describes

100  Marina Palenyy the same tension, I argue, also seen in charter student experience, when one is forced to straddle both the marginalization of a racialized identity and the erasure of that identity in assimilating into the academy that demands hegemony and whitewashing. Students also navigate between linguistically compartmentalized spaces, as they learn to cross borders between cultures of the home and of academia. Hua makes an important distinction in discussing differentiated marginality experience in which one is “trapped by marginality, feeling alienated, detached, frustrated by ambiguity, and lost in the margins between cultures and consequently fail to meet the competing requirements of each,” and another, “feeling comfortable in negotiating and constructing cultural margins and in fact being empowered by a sense of agency as they choose which values and perspectives to act upon” (2017, p. 118). There is a wonderful opportunity to create an identity that integrates lived experiences and the communicative practices that come with it, to the new knowledge of the academy and the critical pedagogy that can authentically facilitate that integration. In my observations working within the charter school context for the last six years, very rarely is an opportunity provided for students to negotiate a sense of self, and act as an agent empowered to make demands for the sake of one’s integrated self. Thus, most are left alienated between borders of existence, never fully belonging in the culture of the academy, and the culture that’s being taken from them through the forces of acculturation guided by standardized testing and the competitive world of college admissions. To that end, it is critical to evaluate teacher participation in the misapplication of CP ideology in the classroom. Yoon presents the missing “invisible” variable of affect (2005, p. 733) and its ties to teacher identity, and the inclination to want to control emotional reactions of students. From this analysis, teachers’ desire toward “noble” (p. 741) goals and the self-perception of the “transformative intellectual” who, centering themselves, seeks to alter students’ perception as well as the emotional impact they present regarding that perception. The harmful aspect of that positionality is not only that it seems to oversee and even dominate students’ cognitive experience with prescribed liberation as it must appear, but also the emotional processes and arrived destinations of such a process. Yoon (2005) outlines how the subtle messaging of “presence of rationalism” (p. 743) within the composition classroom and in the study of rhetoric can often mask the existence and, indeed, the manipulation of affect in the classroom. Rhetoric is taught to reinforce and control a certain set of emotions that is seen as competitive due to its masculine qualities (aggressiveness, directness, confrontation, etc.) and eradicate emotions that are seen as feminine (nurturing, sympathetic, forgiving) as they appear weak and defeatist. In this way, CP when applied in the composition classroom, when it denies affect as an active force that promotes

Resisting Linguistic and Cultural Erasure in the Charter Context  101 status quo, can further harm and oppress student identities, and is no longer an “emancipatory force” (p. 745) that allows for students to critically evaluate their own emotions as they labor toward their liberation, but only further compresses them into hegemonic norms.

Composition Classroom Liberatory Potential When discussing liberatory practices, it is essential to go back to the basics of CP definitions. For this, I solicit the help of Kumaravadivelu (2003), who makes important distinctions in the way CP is implemented to serve the student learner rather than appeasing the authority of the native speaker teacher. First, Kumaravadivelu names the colonial history of English as a subjugating and acculturating tool and the dynamic that subsequently arose between the native speaker versus nonnative speaker (pp. 541, 544) in the classroom, bearing the same oppressive practices that remained over time. English language students belong in the center of the classroom (p. 544), but instead they are taught to “culturally [empathize], if not culturally [assimilate]” (p. 543) with the dominant ideology, thus creating ideological dependence of the nonnative on the native speaker. To that effect, Kumaravadivelu reproduces Audre Lorde, who famously cited the metaphor of the master’s tools. When students are under the dominant ideology of the native speaker teacher, they are no longer nourishing within themselves a deeper understanding of their multiple, gendered, and racialized identities, but are given to the process of acculturation, and an erasure of their home cultures and communication methods. Kumaravadivelu provides a Macrostrategic Framework (p. 545) that guides educators in their endeavors to apply CP in a way that still honors and dignifies nonnative learners. I paraphrase a few of them here: • • • • • • • •

Teachers must change their role from manager of teaching to mediator of learning Minimize teacher intention and learner interpretation Facilitate negotiated interaction Promote learner autonomy: self-directed learning Create general and critical language awareness Contextualize linguistic input: language is shaped by social, cultural context Unseparate speaking, reading, and writing Raise cultural consciousness

This framework aligns to CP in a much more practical way; it allows for students to use their own identities as resources of knowledge that they bring to the classroom, and their own lived experiences as contextualizing

102  Marina Palenyy their new learning in the classroom; their self-knowledge contributes to the general learning of the classroom—enhancing the cultural understanding of their peers. Thus, teachers no longer enjoy the principal authority of student learning. Indeed, they cannot anticipate which direction learning will take place. And this counters not only every basic human instinct of the teacher, but the training that’s done in programs across America. Teachers can no longer assume the moralistic decorum of promoting acculturation that masks as liberating ideology, while perpetuating the same domineering and deeply, innately undemocratic practices.

Literacy Autobiography as Genre of Possibilities Canagarajah also promotes a valuable tool in the literacy autobiography that can serve to facilitate a method through which students can explore their lived experiences as a resource in the classroom. More than that, literacy autobiography can also serve as a space where students can incorporate their communicative styles, merging them through translanguaging (2006), which in itself is a practice that is inherently creative and explorative. The Literacy Autobiography is also a genre that requires a lot of “rigor.” I put quotations around this term, because, particularly in the charter school context, rigor is typically defined as something having to do with reading levels or measured by arbitrary and hierarchical social markers. For example, it is more rigorous to read a 19th-century philosophical text rather than analyze rhetorical moves made by the local journalist reporting on the community meeting regarding a neighborhood landlord issue that displaces families. Canagarajah (2019) affirms that telling your own story within the literacy autobiography requires labor and innovation, because they then become the writer’s “new textual ‘home’” (p. 6) constructed by the writers themselves, that “creatively merge grammars and transcend linguistic boundaries” (p. 6). Literacy autobiography also serves as resistance against the erasure of transnational identity in the classroom. It addresses both the multilingual proficiency (p. 6) and the problem of compartmentalizing identity which students in charter schools must face as they develop new literacies in English-only classrooms. A wealth of knowledge and culture is ravaged when we do not allow students to utilize the composition classroom space to tell their stories; when we as educators insist that, for their own good, they must accommodate whiteness and adopt it as their primary mode of communication and self-presentation. To truly educate and indeed liberate our students in charter schools, we must present them with assignments that promote further development of their cultural identities as equal parts that inform each other.

Resisting Linguistic and Cultural Erasure in the Charter Context  103

Figure 8.1  My mother’s test for the United States citizenship application, scribbled on by my niece.

Thus, the literacy autobiography can serve not only as a “textual home” for writers, but as places of teaching and learning among us, as students serve as experts of their own histories and the wisdom that is passed along from generation to generation. This is how we can better evaluate (Leonard, 2018) and affirm not only the stories, but the way they are told.

Moving Forward: Closing Illustrations My mother became a grandmother in 2018. The baby grew up quickly, grasping eagerly for new ways to articulate herself while words were available. At 15 months, she held my sister’s paint brushes, boldly mixing colors of her own, building shapes and patterns on paper that spilled out of her like dreamscapes. By 18 months, she was drawing with pencils and pens, scribbling on the backs of bank statements and letters,

104  Marina Palenyy in other people’s journals, on walls. When visiting her grandparents, she scrawled with her fingers on her grandfather’s back, letters she had yet to learn, giggling and exclaiming, “Look! Look! Look!” Soon, Amber’s love letters were to be found in every corner of their house, met exclusively with adoration, mom too overcome with glee to fret over the tablecloth. At a coffee shop, Mom takes out her study papers for the US citizenship test covered by Amber’s love scribbles. Tickled, she slowly unfolds the decorated pages, reading over her notes in preparation for this highstakes test to join a country that is not her own. Intertwining joy with the intimidating new literacy acquisition via a child’s budding intergenerational literacy, my mother wields a love deeper than time or space. Literacy of art, of citizenship, and of familial bonds. When teachers open up the study of literacy to the entire world of the learner, they open up possibilities for a wealth of knowledge and experience that cannot be standardized or even measured; a wealth of stories intertwined and entrenched with histories that sprawl beyond recorded time. And when we remember and honor them in our speech, we keep our stories alive as we adapt and progress forward. My mother’s migration story is that of survival and courage—an uncanny ability to refashion her world to make it safe for her children and now grandchildren. Her journeys from her youth in Soviet Ukraine collective farms, to laboring in a factory assembly line for ceramic tableware, to raising a family of ten on a farm, to her courageous journey to the United States. All these stories indicate an elasticity and stock of spirit that is only known to women who have had to endure decades of heavy history and carry decades more of histories before them. I hope to know a mere fraction of her wisdom in my own journey on earth. I hope to show my students how to do the same for their own sacred generational voyages.

References Canagarajah, A. S. (2019). Transnational Literacy Autobiographies as Translingual Writing. Oxfordshire, England: Routledge. Canagarajah, A. S. (2006). The place of World Englishes in composition: Pluralization continued. CCC, 57(4), 586+ Freire, P. (1970/2000). Pedagogy of the Oppressed. (30th Anniversary Edition). New York: Continuum. Freire, P. (1998). Pedagogy of Freedom: Ethics, Democracy, and Civic Courage. New York: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc. hooks, b. (2010). Teaching Critical Thinking: Practical Wisdom. Routledge. Hua, Z. (2017). New orientations to identity in mobility. In S. Canagarajah (Ed.), The Routledge Handbook of Migration and Language (pp. 117–132). London: Routledge.

Resisting Linguistic and Cultural Erasure in the Charter Context  105 Kirkpatrick, Andy. (2010) The Routledge Handbook of World Englishes. Abingdon: Routledge. Kumaravadivelu, B. (2003). Critical language pedagogy: A post-method perspectives on English language teaching. World Englishes, 22(4), 539–550. Leonard, R. L. (2018). Writing On the Move: Migrant Women and the Value of Literacy. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania: University of Pittsburgh Press. Thomson-Bunn, H. (2014). Are they empowered yet?: Opening up definitions of critical pedagogy. Composition Forum, 29, http://compositionforum.com/ issue/29 Yoon, H. (2005). Affecting the transformative intellectual: Questioning “Noble” sentiments in critical pedagogy and composition. JAC: A Journal of Rhetoric, Culture & Politics, 25(4), 717–759.

9 Localizing the Practice of Critical Pedagogy through Place-Based, Problem-Posing Education Alan Chan

Introduction With the advancement of globalization, current trends of education are encouraging teachers and students to bridge with more global issues. The phenomenon occurs in Macau, China, too. In my observation, no matter at the high school level or the college level, the education department of Macau is sponsoring students to participate in international exchange programs, represent Macau to compete in global contests, and study overseas. All these are helpful to broaden the new generation’s horizons and help them build a wider connection with the outside world. However, the trend is also encouraging different institutions to be competing for education resources and better reputation by turning the main direction of education to a global perspective. The whole design sounds good, but it overlooks the importance of place-based education (PBE), as suggested by McInerney et al. (2011). We can easily predict that the more students focus on participation in global issues, the less time and effort they can invest in local community issues. The focus on global issues is not a problem itself, but considering the resources needed for an active, physically present participation, it is impossible to involve everyone for education of such scale, leaving some students privileged and some others biased. If we are involving our students merely in discussions about international affairs, it is not enough for them to play an active role in learning about and caring for the world around them. Cultivating more PBE can be a way to remedy the above defects brought by an overemphasis on globalized vision of education. Moreover, the “banking” concept of education, which was explored by Brazilian philosopher Paulo Freire (2000) in his work Pedagogy of the Oppressed, is predominantly a concept that governs the teaching practice in Macau education. It is built upon a foundation that education signifies a kind of control in thinking and action that leads people to adjust to the world and discourages their creative power (Freire, 2000). This teaching practice demonstrates ignorance and incompetence to understand DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-10

Localizing the Practice of Critical Pedagogy  107 critical pedagogy (CP), making teachers turn a blind eye to the need to empower and co-construct with their students the teaching and learning practice (Thomson-Bunn, 2014). Such failure turns students into an oppressed role. Coined by Freire (2000), “problem-posing education” (PPE) is believed to be an alternative to the “banking” concept of education that focuses on the “humanist and liberating praxis, posit[ing] as fundamental that the people subjected to domination must fight for their emancipation” (p. 85). By discussing the philosophies and practice of PBE and PPE as part of CP praxis, this chapter explores how CP practice can be localized so that students of a territory can become co-constructors of knowledge, take advantage of the opportunity to learn by doing, and be engaged in the transformation of their own community (Freire, 1998; Thomson-Bunn, 2014). As an attempt to examine the effects of PBE and PPE, a conceptbased practice of how an English for General Academic Purposes (EGAP) course based in a university of Macau can be adapted will be suggested as the future implications of the chapter.

Literature Review: Important Concepts As the fundamental philosophical approach governing the praxis mentioned in the chapter, it is worth looking at a brief definition and ideology of CP. While there is not a single standard way to define CP, it is a theory and belief that aims at deconstructing traditional beliefs in pedagogy that teachers should always gain the upper hand, autonomy, and authority. As Freire (1998) commented, “right thinking is right doing” (p. 37). This applies to daily pedagogical practice in the way that contents and paradigms that are no longer seen as relevant or chronologically new should be rejected and replaced by “a kind of coherent, lived practice” (p. 39) that involves “an act of communication” (p. 41), and critical thinking about practice of the present and the past, which aims at making the future world and future self a better one. To understand this, CP has to be contextual so that the conditions involved in the teaching and learning can help both teachers and students “engage in the experience of assuming themselves as social, historical, thinking, communicating, transformative, creative persons” (p. 45). In the ideology of CP, teachers and students are more like partners that continuously and reflexively co-create and revise spaces (holistic constructs that include geography, history, and society (Canagarajah, 2018). CP advocates supporting students to take the role to situate and understand their educational and social needs within multilayered contexts of power relations to learn actively in ways that suit their needs. In other words, students are empowered to be a part of learning and take the initiative to work together with their teachers to make meaning.

108  Alan Chan With the belief that education is “inherently political” (ThomsonBunn, 2014, p. 7), CP persists in the struggle against injustice and traditional practice of hierarchical education, and in the ultimate pursuit of freedom for students, especially marginalized students who are amid the authority of the other “superior” ones, like their parents, teachers, and the institutions. The core belief of CP involves being critical of theory and practice: it entails understanding the theory and practice in a dialectical play, in which theory should be critical of practice and vice versa. Finally, CP dictates a need for problematizing an existing or established theory. Just as Bartolome (2015) claimed, with the focus on different issues like power, justice, and perspectives like economy, class, gender, ideologies, discourses, and religion, critical theory forms the foundation of CP, a theoretical foundation for the practice of PBE.

Conceptual Framework of Place-Based Education Although the concept of place-based education (PBE) is not new, it has only recently become a part of a broader movement that has arisen as a response to globalization and serious environmental issues confronting humanity (McInerney et al., 2011). PBE is an educational approach that entails geographical, artistic, literacy, scientific, and historical aspects, with the aim of making students active and willing to build strong ties to the place they are from, as well as help them find out a solution to the local problems (Özkaral & Taş, 2018). The core of this approach is to connect people from the places they live to a spirit of community with other people and nature (Chawla & White, 2018). PBE and CP are viewed as mutually supportive traditions (McInerney et al., 2011) due to two major reasons: their major target for improvement and the grant of freedom to students. In terms of the first reason, according to Özkaral and Taş (2018), PBE originated from the need that every society aims to cultivate their citizens to be devoted to where they live. The major ideology of PBE is that education institutions and educators should be responsible for developing students’ local loyalty and creating place awareness in students through planning and realizing activities. All these enable students to have opportunities to improve their relations with nature and with the society where they live. The sense of “improvement” resonates with the major tenet of CP, as both of which center around the transformation of the society. Dewey (1938), in his work, Experience and Education, highlighted the primary responsibility of educators as to “know how to utilize the surroundings, physical and social, that exist so as to extract from them all that they have to contribute to building up experiences that are worthwhile” (p. 40). He also stated that schools should

Localizing the Practice of Critical Pedagogy  109 encourage children to follow their interests, raise questions, collect and analyze evidence to find answers, develop ideas and suggestions, apply their ideas to test their value, and reflect upon results […] with others in a spirit of community and service to the world. (Dewey, 1940, as cited in Chawla & White, 2018, p. 1) PBE is described as “inherently multidisciplinary and experiential; reflective of an educational philosophy that is broader than the notion of ‘learn to earn’; and, primarily concerned with connecting place with self and community” (Woodhouse & Knapp, 2000, as cited in McInerney et al., 2011, p. 5). PBE covers a wide range of concepts, making it overlap with other related fields including environmental education, civic education, project-based learning, experiential learning, local history courses, outdoor education, service learning, and work-related programs in schools (Chawla & White, 2018; McInerney et al., 2011). This wide range of fields guarantees that students have more opportunities to select areas they want to focus their learning or tasks on, which helps education refrain from the traditional hegemonic practice of having teachers make all the decisions in the learning process.

The Benefits and Critiques of Implementing PBE According to Özkaral and Taş (2018), Goulah (2017), and McInerney et al. (2011), the major benefits of implementing PBE can be summarized into four major dimensions: (1) Performance, (2) Motivation, (3) Connection with the outside world, and (4) Ecology. Some major benefits to performance include an enhancement of students’ academic results and even physical health. As PBE usually involves learning activities that are conducted beyond the classroom wall, the unconventional way of learning means students are exposed to different ways of setting up their learning space and finding their own answers. The multimodality suggests students can employ multiple intelligence during their course of study, and they are not limited to merely one form of assessment: this can promote a more student-oriented evaluation which can result in a better learning outcome. Finally, having more opportunities to be in an outdoor area means students can have more physical activities, which is conducive to their health. Motivational benefits of PBE can be seen with students becoming more interested in their learning, a lower rate of absenteeism, and a reduction of behavioral problems. As mentioned above, an unconventional way of learning that provides a wider range of learning options suggests a higher possibility for students to encounter something of their interest, which translates into higher learning motivation. PBE advocates that students reach out to nature and the community where they live. The approach brings students into contact with people

110  Alan Chan and organizations of their neighborhoods. It means they can build more connections with the outside world. This is one of the best ways for them to get to know the society and nature better and cultivate their sense of belonging for the community. It can also encourage more voluntary and community service, which does good to both the students and other community members. Students explore natural surroundings in PBE, and the more their exposure to the ecology is, the more their awareness of the need to protect the environment becomes. It is conducive to the building up of a more environmentally friendly world. Despite the above benefits, there are also critiques about the implementation of PBE. One of the major problems raised about PBE, as described by McInerney et al. (2011), is the “over romanticization” of the notion “place.” For some relatively smaller territories, such as Macau, where the community is almost identical to the entire territory, and where life necessities and resources are largely dependent on other places, a mere focus on the “place” may narrow the vision of the students, and also limit the pedagogical arrangements of the teachers. Another worry that is correlated with PBE is its “under-theorised and uncritical forms” (McInerney et al., 2011, p. 9), which may “sustain hegemonic curriculum by simply endorsing the status quo and leaving unchallenged community prejudices, inequitable practices and unfair structural arrangements” (p. 9). While PBE and CP go hand in hand, this potential, undesirable shallowness of the curriculum design may end up turning students’ vision to be more one-sided, stifling the possibility to develop critical thinking. Finally, as described by McInerney et al. (2011) as one of the “dangers” with PBE, there is a tendency to view the solutions to environmental and social problems as “lying wholly within the grasp of local people” (p. 10). This may restrict the scheme and reaction that students take to merely the scope of local activism. Students may thus lack development of a global vision, which may aggravate with the speedy development of globalization.

Conceptual Framework of Problem-Posing Education As an alternative to the “banking” model of education, PPE can be seen as a “humanist and liberating praxis, posit[ing] as fundamental that the people subjected to domination must fight for their emancipation” (Freire, 2000, p. 85). In their work Problem-Posing at Work: Popular Educator’s Guide, Wallerstein and Auerbach (2004) made a faithful description of the origin of PPE as an education approach inspired by the work of Freire’s

Localizing the Practice of Critical Pedagogy  111 “culture circles” literacy program. PPE is an embodiment of Freire’s ideas and vision of “education for transformation” (p. 7), a catalyst for programs that include a great variety of fields like literacy, English as a Second Language, adult education, labor and health and safety education, health promotion, public health education, and community development. The major ideology of “problem-posing” can be understood as one that derives from Freire’s central premise that education is never neutral. As mentioned above, education is a long-term struggle against injustice and traditional practice of hierarchical education. Just as what Yulianto (2015) stated, “praxis is a social action-reflection recursive activity in transforming the world” (p. 28). Praxis in classroom practices is executed through PPE in different forms of implementation in different contexts of classrooms. In view of this, PPE entails the components of “people’s reflect[ion] upon themselves and their condition in the world—the world in which and with which they find themselves . . . to the extent that they are more conscientized, [and] will insert themselves as subjects into their own history” (Freire, 1971, as cited in Wallerstein & Auerbach, 2004, p. 7).

Banking Model of Education versus Problem-Posing Education Inspired by the major theories of Freire (2000) and other scholars (Shokouhi & Pashaie, 2015; Wallerstein & Auerbach, 2004), the author tries to compare the two pedagogical approaches with Table 9.1. As can be seen from Table 9.1, the biggest contrast between the two approaches is how they look at the ability of students and the role of the teachers: while the “banking” concept of education (BE) restricts students’ capability in knowledge and thinking, even inhabiting their creativity, PPE values students as a capable thinker. As for the role of teachers, BE “validates” the absolute authority and knowledgeability of teachers, whereas teachers under PPE are opportunity-providers who aim at presenting students with situations that can prompt their criticalthinking. Under PPE, teachers are supposed to be confident and at the same time humble enough to know that they do not know everything (Shokouhi & Pashaie, 2015).

Application of Problem-Posing Education One of the most well-known applications of PPE is the conversation between a group of farmers and Freire (1992, as cited in Shokouhi & Pashaie, 2015, pp. 206–207). In the conversation, the farmers expressed a feeling of inferiority comparing themselves with a PhD holder (Freire) and attributed their limitation in life and rights to

112  Alan Chan Table 9.1  Comparison between “banking” concept of education and problemposing education

Dialogue Students are viewed as: Teachers are viewed as: Creativity and consciousness Historicity

BE

PPE

Resists Objects of resistance, empty vessels, and passive sponges Knowledgeable; “bankclerks”; absolute authority

Indispensable Critical thinkers

Inhabits and domesticates Immobilize and fixate forces, fail to acknowledge people as historical being

One who presents and problematizes situations to authenticate their students’ thinking Base itself on creativity Take the people’s historicity as their starting point

Note. BE stands for Banking concept of education, while PPE stands for Problem-Posing Education

fate. Freire, by making use of the analogy of “father,” and by posing a problem, made those farmers “question the necessity of the reality” (Shokouhi & Pashaie, 2015, p. 207), and “help[ed] them draw their own conclusion” that it was not fate that limited their life but it was their boss. This example of PPE is thought-provoking and reveals two important features of PPE: context and dialogue. PPE advocates contextualizing. With the creation and problematization of situations by teachers, students are encouraged to re-experience the ordinary situation and think critically by themselves about the “answer” or “solution” that tackles the issue. Dialogue, as suggested by Freire (2000), is “a method of true knowledge, [in which] the knowing subjects must approach reality scientifically in order to seek the dialectical connections which explain the form of reality” (as cited in Shokouhi & Pashaie, 2015, p. 207). They further explained that dialogue “implies mutuality between teachers and students” (p. 207), which contrasts sharply with the relationship between teacher and students in a traditional classroom where onesided transmission of information from the teacher to the students is the norm. In another example, Nina Wallerstein (1982) made use of her own publication, Language and Culture in Conflict: Problem-posing in the ESL Classroom, one of the first Freirean texts for teachers of English as a Second Language, to exemplify how she made use of problem-posing process. She proposed a five-step questioning strategy: description, problem

Localizing the Practice of Critical Pedagogy  113 definition, personalize, analyze social context, and develop strategies for action. With these strategies (coined by her as “SHOWeD”), discussion can be conducted from the concrete to the analytic level, so as to prompt meaningful dialogues within oneself and between peers. Wallerstein’s (1982) pedagogical design resonates with Freire’s (1998) suggestion about asking questions: questions by teachers are to stimulate more questions and critical reflection about the questions-all the above is fundamental to curiosity.

The Benefits and Critiques of Implementing PPE As one of the “derived” approaches of CP, PPE shares the same benefit with CP on the part about “empowerment.” Wallerstein (1982) defined the term as “a social action process that promotes participation of people, groups, and communities towards the goals of increased individual and community control, political efficacy, improved quality of community life and social justice” (as cited in Wallerstein & Auerbach, 2004, p. 9). Empowerment is a key feature and an important goal of CP. By empowering students, especially marginalized students, CP achieves its main spirit that “only power that springs from the weakness of the oppressed will be sufficiently strong to free both” (Freire, 2000, p. 44). Empowerment is not imposed or “given” to students by teachers or institutions, but rather derives from the learning process students engage with others and from within (Wallerstein & Auerbach, 2004). In other words, no matter for CP or PPE, one of the key benefits is how students build their own control of knowledge and skills as an active stakeholder of the learning process, and how they can make good use of what they have gained as a source of power to transform the surroundings. This takes us to the second benefit of PPE. With its feature of employing “dialogue,” PPE enables students “to connect their personal lives to each other’s and to understand the social, political, economic, and historical contexts of their lives” (Wallerstein & Auerbach, 2004, p. 12). By means of different practices like personal stories, role plays, dialogues, and even multimodal artifacts, students can examine the multiple roles that they can have and judge the level of power they have in each role. As suggested by the two scholars, through different practices, students can share with each other their strengths and their own tips about how to refrain from “being stereotyped” in situations where they feel less powerful. Students can also articulate the motivators in their life that assist them in making changes, as well as the hardships and hurdles they have or will encounter. Wallerstein and Auerbach (2004) further reflected that “problem-posing … expands beyond the individual’s problems and concerns and engages students and community members in their strengths and existing knowledge of how power operates in their worlds”

114  Alan Chan (p. 12). This truthfully reflects the main objective of CP as to assist students to reach out beyond themselves and the classroom wall, which enables them to see how they can make a difference to the community around them. Among the critiques of Freire’s CP (as practiced in the way of PPE), there are two of them which deserve our attention. First, even with the meaningful and beneficial objectives of implementing CP (PPE), it remains “at the level of grand theorizing rather than pedagogical practice” (Pennycook, 2001, as cited in Shokouhi & Pashaie, 2015, p. 208). There is a lack of how the theories of CP can be actualized and utilized in a real classroom environment. Second, Wallerstein and Auerbach (2004) pointed out that Freire’s theory is overly class-based and cannot represent the more complex realities in contemporary societies. To be specific, Freire overlooked some complex discrimination issues including discrimination for women, minority groups, lesbian, and transgendered people, indigenous and other marginalized groups, issues of white privilege. This may result in students only perceiving an overly simplistic view of the world.

Rationales behind Combining Place-Based Education and Problem-Posing Education In the current research field, studies about the integration of PPE and project-based learning have been conducted by different scholars (e.g., Behizadeh, 2014). However, there is a lack of studies that try to examine the possibility of integrating PBE and PPE as a complement to each other. Based on the above conceptual framework, some rationales behind such a potential combination are outlined as follows: First, both PBE and PPE share the same ideological background of CP. By positing and positioning students as a crucial part of learning, both approaches underline the importance of cultivating a learning environment in which “both the teacher and the students [feel the drive for an] open, curious questioning, … [that] grounds them mutually” (p. 79). This resonates with the core principle of CP, which states that teachers and students are co-creator of the learning spaces. Second, PBE and PPE form a logical coherence, and they can go in whichever order (or even implemented simultaneously) that suits the need of the pedagogy. For example, PPE can be enacted through PBE, in which students have the freedom to choose an area about their surroundings as a theme. They can then problematize a situation/scenario of the theme they have chosen and conduct a field study for the answer. The teacher can also take part in problematizing a situation from the lens of the adult community for students to work together and find their answers. In a similar vein, PBE can be enacted through PPE in which a

Localizing the Practice of Critical Pedagogy  115 general situation can be suggested and problematized first before students look for their solutions in the surroundings. In addition, both approaches advocate the same belief suggested by Freire (2000) that humans exist in the world and through the world they find themselves. Following Freire’s ideology, the world is not a static reality but a reality in process and in transformation. Both approaches support the belief that students are the key roles that can work to make themselves and the world a better one. Lastly, the two approaches complement each other. As mentioned above, the common critique about PBE is its “localized vision” as well as “under-theorised and uncritical forms” (McInerney et al., 2011, p. 9). By employing PPE, teachers can engage students in a simulation practice in which teachers raise a global situation in which they can transfer the ideas they have made about a local community and discuss how it can be implemented from a global perspective. Similarly, while PPE is criticized for a lack of utility in a real classroom environment, and a lack of consideration about the more complex realities in contemporary societies, employing PBE is a way that helps visualize and actualize the theories suggested in a PPE classroom.

Integrating PBE and PPE into English for General Academic Purpose Course As an attempt to look at how this hybrid concept integrating PBE and PPE works, a concept-based practice of an adaptation of an English for General Academic Purposes (EGAP) course based in a university of Macau is suggested here. This EGAP course is on a one-semester basis and is the exit-level college English course that is based on an institution-developed material. The main theme of the course is built upon the 17 Sustainable Development Goals that were proposed by the United Nations with the aim of creating a world with better shares of resources, higher level of equality, more sustainable environment, and a more humane life. Main teaching activities related to this course include individual and group academic essays, group discussions and individual presentations. Students taking this course are mostly EFL students, predominantly local Macau citizens, with some other students from mainland China and other parts of the world. As an exit-level college English course, students can enroll in it either by completing two prerequisite English for General Purposes courses or by a satisfactory score in the English section in the placement test or the joint university admission exam. In the original design, the main theme of the Sustainable Development Goals entails the worldview of anti-racism, as well as global collaboration to fight against poverty and strive for a more sustainable world. As

116  Alan Chan mentioned in the introduction, involving students merely in discussions about international affairs is not enough for them to play an active role in learning about and caring for the world around them. In view of this, the course is a good platform for practicing the implementation of both PBE and PPE. With the main theme of the course remaining unchanged, students can first choose one of the themes they are interested in as their target. Take an example of the theme “Good Health and Well-being,” students can collaborate to investigate a problem area about the theme that happens in Macau (e.g., suicidal rate). They can then lead a research about some basic facts related to the theme, followed by a field study that investigates the cause and effect of the phenomenon. As a group, they draft a scheme that proposes possible means to alleviate the problem, and share it with others in written and spoken form. The draft can be further edited into a formal proposal that can be handed in to related agencies. In this way, students’ work turns into a real social movement that is conducive to their own community. Finally, both teacher and students can collaborate to problematize the situation of the theme and investigate how their community-based practice can be implemented on a global scale. With the above suggestion, this course becomes a very good platform for students to be empowered by co-creating with the teacher the teaching and learning practice, as suggested by Thomson-Bunn (2014). It can be a good practicum of how students can be authorized to share responsibility (Thelin, 2005) about dealing with social and even world issues. Following Freire’s (2000) idea, this course can serve as a good opportunity for students to critically co-investigate with their teacher. Through critical thinking and collaborative work, students can specify an area of the 17 goals which they want to target their attention to, localize it, and raise their ideas about how to address the problem, first from a community scale, targeting at the potential of developing it into a global scale. In a word, this curriculum design practices education as a humanist and liberating praxis, putting forward a vision for “thinking globally and acting locally” (Wallerstein & Auerbach, 2004, p. 85).

Moving Forward This chapter discusses the philosophies and practice of PBE and PPE, two of the approaches that represent the fundamental praxis of critical pedagogy. Stemming from the conceptual framework, the chapter further investigates the possibility of a hybrid and “localized” practice of combining the two approaches with the aim of changing the surrounding. Suggesting a localized practice of critical pedagogy does not mean yielding to the essential need of transforming the world but, rather,

Localizing the Practice of Critical Pedagogy  117 giving more attention to the personal needs of students. When speaking about the kind of knowledge necessary to educational practice, Freire (1998) reminded us about “the knowledge that speaks of respect for the autonomy of the learner” (p. 56). Regardless of the theme of learning, the central figure remains the students: meeting their needs and pace of learning suggest a teaching philosophy that makes learning manageable and feasible for them. Only through “localizing” our education can we meet the practical needs of our students, gearing our pedagogy toward a student-driven orientation.

References Bartolome, L. (2015). Preparing to teach newcomer students: The significance of critical pedagogy and the study of ideology in teacher education. National Society for the Study of Education, 109(2), 505–526. https://doi. org/10.1177/016146811011201410 Behizadeh, N. (2014). Enacting problem-posing education through projectbased learning. The English Journal, 104(2), 99–104. https://www.jstor.org/ stable/24484422 Canagarajah, S. (2018). Translingual practice as spatial repertoires: Expanding the paradigm beyond structuralist orientations. Applied Linguistics, 39(1), 31– 54. https://doi.org/10.1093/applin/amx041 Chawla, L., & White, A. (2018). Place-based education and citizen science: Resources for learning beyond the classroom. The NAMTA Journal, 43(3), 4– 22. https://files.eric.ed.gov/fulltext/EJ1244425.pdf Dewey, J. (1938). Experience and education. Macmillan. Freire, P. (1998). Pedagogy of freedom. Rowman & Littlefield Publishers. Freire, P. (2000). Pedagogy of the oppressed (30th Anniversary Edition). Continuum. Goulah, J. (2017). Climate change and TESOL: Language, literacies, and the creation of eco-ethical consciousness. TESOL Quarterly, 51(1), 90–114. https:// doi.org/10.1002/tesq.277 McInerney, P., Smyth, J., & Down, B. (2011). ‘Coming to a place near you?’ The politics and possibilities of a critical pedagogy of place-based education. AsiaPacific Journal of Teacher Education, 39(1), 3–16. https://doi.org/10.1080/135 9866X.2010.540894 Özkaral, T. C., & Taş, A. M. (2018). Evaluation of teacher’s attitudes related to the place-based education approach applied in social studies lessons. International Journal of Higher Education, 7(4), 166–175. https://doi.org/10.5430/ijhe. v7n4p166 Shokouhi, M., & Pashaie, F. (2015). Critical pedagogy and its realization in classroom context. Journal of Applied Linguistics and Language Research, 2(3), 204– 210. http://www.jallr.com/index.php/JALLR/article/view/53/pdf_51 Thelin, W. H. (2005). Understanding problems in critical classrooms. College Composition and Communication, 57(1). https://www.jstor.org/stable/30037900 Thomson-Bunn, H. (2014). Are they empowered yet? Opening up definitions of critical pedagogy. Composition Forum, 29. http://compositionforum.com/ issue/29/are-they-empowered.php

118  Alan Chan Wallerstein, N. (1982). Language and culture in conflict: Problem-posing in the ESL classroom. Addison-Wesley Publishing Company. Wallerstein, N., & Auerbach, E. (2004). Problem-posing at work: Popular educator’s guide. Grass Roots Press. Yulianto, S. W. (2015). The use of critical pedagogy principles in teaching EFL reading. English Review, 4(1), 25–38. https://doi.org/10.25134/erjee.v4i1.305

10 Critical Pedagogy and Postmethod in Francophone West Africa Possibilities and Practical Application— the Case of Mali Ramata Diallo

Introduction English is considered a language of opportunity, which offers upward mobility, symbolic, linguistic, and cultural capital in Francophone West Africa. The main goal of English teaching in Francophone West Africa is to equip students with the necessary skills to speak fluently English with English-speaking communities and have better jobs. Unfortunately, there are rarely any students who are proficient in English after secondary school due to teacher-centered instruction, large classes, and traditional teaching methods. It can also be argued that these challenges result from the curriculum not taking into account the local contexts and needs of the learners. Thus, there is a need to change the pedagogical practices and consider the context for better language learning in Francophone West Africa. Postmethod and critical pedagogy can bring these changes into Francophone West Africa. However, although many studies have been done to explore the relevance and applicability of postmethod and critical pedagogy in various contexts, it is hard to find studies conducted in Africa, especially in Francophone West Africa, to my knowledge. Besides, this chapter responds to the calls of many African authors, such as Talatou (2017) and Dia (2021), for critical, democratic, and liberatory education in sub-Saharan Africa. Furthermore, many scholars such as Akbari (2008a, b) and Breuing (2011) argue that the practical implications of critical pedagogy and postmethod have been highly underresearched. Given these gaps, this chapter explores the possibilities for using postmethod and critical pedagogy in Francophone West Africa and provides some pedagogical practices to adopt a more critical, democratic, and liberatory pedagogy that considers the particularities of the context and the students’ needs as well as their lived experiences. DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-11

120  Ramata Diallo

Context and Rationale for Critical Pedagogy and Postmethod in Francophone West Africa The geographical designation of Francophone West Africa refers to Benin, Burkina Faso, Ivory Coast, Mali, Guinea, Senegal, Togo, and Niger. Francophone West Africa is rich in culture, ethnicities, and languages. The official language, as well as the language of instruction and administration, is French. Besides French, other foreign languages are spoken. One of these languages is English, which enjoys an important status in Francophone West Africa. Indeed, English is introduced as a curriculum subject from the beginning of middle school until the end of high school in all the countries except Guinea, where it is introduced in high school for three years. English is the first compulsory foreign language taught in countries like Ivory Coast, Mali, and Senegal (Negash, 2011). This burgeoning use of English in the region and the way it is touted as economic development and social mobility permeate neocolonialism in the region. As a matter of fact, in developing countries and former French colonies like Francophone West African countries, education relies on foreign donors and aid. The resources and materials used in classrooms are generally developed elsewhere and do not reflect the local realities, needs, and particularities (Kumaravadivelu, 2003). Clearly, these foreign aids are false generosity (Freire, 1990), and foreign donors serve vested interests (Tejan-Sie, 2018). Another rationale is the banking-type nature of the educational system. The teacher-centered or transmission-based pedagogy is still widespread in African countries, and West African countries are no exception (Akyeampong, 2017; Mtika & Gates, 2010; Otara et al., 2019). In these countries, teaching is just a transmission of knowledge, and teachers’ main job is to help students pass the national exams. This transmissionbased pedagogy is mostly due to the strict national curriculum developed by the Ministry of Education to transmit a bulk of knowledge instead of cultivating critical thinking. Thus, English learning is based on memorization of long lists of words and grammatical rules, short roleplaying dialogues, and answering yes/no and multiple choice questions. Thus, teachers are not really concerned about relating classroom content to issues beyond the classroom, whether related to local or global issues. Instead, they are preoccupied with covering the assigned material and abiding by what the curriculum says (Akyeampong, 2003). Therefore, teachers use and focus “on the pre-packaged, ready-to-use material freely provided by the Western … agencies” (Canagarajah, 1999, p. 84), which results in uncritical, unreflective, and superficial teaching practices (Akyeampong et al., 2011; Akyeampong, 2017). From a Freirean critical perspective, these are characteristics of a banking model of education, in which the teacher is the transmitter of tedious grammatical rules and boring vocabulary words, and students are the passive receivers of that

Critical Pedagogy and Postmethod in Francophone West Africa  121 knowledge which gives little room for them to communicate and share their viewpoints. Rather than merely attempting to “fulfill predefined curricular goals” (Pennycook, 2009, p. 299), it is imperative to have pedagogies that take into account all these aspects and lead to dialogue, social change, and conscientization. Of course, this does not mean that technicist teaching is all bad, but it should also be critical and reflective in order to link the social, political, and economic issues to students’ lived experiences. Otherwise, that teaching leads to decontextualized practices, the irrelevance of the curriculum, and the inefficiency of the educational system. Furthermore, the use of colonial language in Francophone West Africa is a big issue. Most teachers and students are multilingual, but due to the influence of former colonial powers, French is the official language and the language of instruction. Thus, the mother tongue of the students is disregarded when teaching. In this sense, as Ogunniyi and Rollnick (2015) argued, “ignoring the African child’s cultural background in the process of modern education is an enormous nonsense” (p. 190). In addition to ignoring students’ mother tongue, the emphasis is on the “inner-circle” English, mainly British and American English. For example, other Englishes, such as Nigerian or Ghanaian English, are debased and their pronunciation is considered deficient. This stance results in linguistic imperialism, native speakerism, and inequality in English Language Teaching (ELT). Lastly, the growing influence of neoliberalism based on teaching to test and privatization makes teaching practices technical, oppressive, and uncritical (Charton & Noûs, 2020; Ochwa-Echel, 2013). That’s why critical pedagogy and postmethod are needed in Francophone West Africa. In the following section, I will detail the possibilities and relevance of critical pedagogy and postmethod in Francophone West Africa.

Critical Pedagogy and Postmethod: Possibilities and Relevance Critical pedagogy is considered an offspring of the Frankfurt School established in 1923. Paulo Freire, recognized as “the inaugural philosopher of Critical Pedagogy,” described it as a pedagogy that challenges, questions, and critiques power dynamics and unequal status quo in our education. As for Postmethod, it came to light with the disenchantment with the concept of method. It is a reaction against the prescriptive and authoritative nature of teaching. An important philosophical foundation of both critical pedagogy and postmethod that is relevant to the Francophone context is their reaction against top-down approaches to teaching. For example, Francophone West African students are compelled to memorize and recite knowledge from their teachers no matter how unpalatable it is because teaching and education are focused on obedience and respect. Any arguing with

122  Ramata Diallo teachers is considered disrespectful, so silence is golden. Therefore, most of the time students’ voices are silenced in the classroom. This is what Freire calls “banking education” which sees students as blank slates and dehumanizes them. Both postmethod and critical pedagogy give autonomy and agency to students to become critical thinkers and empower teachers to challenge their traditional role as a mere channel of transmitting knowledge and become critical reflexive pedagogues. Both teachers’ and students’ experiences and knowledge are valued by rejecting hegemonic and oppressive curricula and ideologies, eliminating any prejudice, discrimination, or disadvantage, and including the local realities in the classroom. Being liberatory and empowering pedagogies, critical pedagogy and postmethod can change francophone classrooms from a “chew and pour” approach to a critical and reflective classroom in which students and teachers co-create knowledge and create their own praxis and bring change to the classroom and society. Closely tied to the notion that education is not neutral and apolitical, critical pedagogy and postmethod seek to challenge the status quo and disrupt the dominant ideologies found in the curriculum, the course materials, and the teaching methods used by the teachers. In Francophone West Africa, these hegemonic and dominant ideologies can be exemplified by the use of colonial language, western textbooks and course materials, gender inequality and disparity in education, but also the deskilling of teachers by the strict curriculum and an elite education where rich parents pay quality education to their children which give them cultural capital over the poor (Ogunniyi & Rollnick, 2015). These dominant ideologies influence the educational practices in classrooms, privilege those in power, and marginalize the poor (Giroux, 2011, 2019). They also seek to develop a democratic classroom that takes into account students’ linguistic and social needs, hence the possibility and particularity parameters of Postmethod. Based on these parameters, every educational decision should be determined with regard to the specificity of a given situation and the local exigencies as well as the discourses in which they are embedded. Accordingly, every education context requires contextsensitive programming, which reflects students’ wants, needs, and particularities. This concern of critical pedagogy and postmethod about the specificity of a given context, the opposing stance against the transmission-based approach, the spotlight on issues of power and social inequalities, and action on social transformation and praxis can challenge the oppressive features of Francophone West Africa pedagogy and develop a pedagogy geared toward liberation which will raise critical consciousness and develop teaching practices that validate students’ culture, knowledge, and realities for a just society. As critical pedagogy and postmethod are flexible approaches that add a critical component and a critical awareness to instruction and classroom practices as well as consider the local needs and wants, it makes

Critical Pedagogy and Postmethod in Francophone West Africa  123 sense to use critical pedagogy and postmethod in Francophone West Africa because the teacher-centered instruction and the strict curriculum are context-free. Thus, Francophone West Africa, which is diverse linguistically and culturally, needs more flexible and critical pedagogies that take into account the diversity, local needs, and life experiences of students in the classroom to develop context and culture-sensitive pedagogies.

Possible Limitations: Critical Pedagogy and Postmethod One of the possible limitations of critical pedagogy and postmethod in Francophone West Africa is the centralized and top-down educational system (Kaimvand et al. 2016; Khany & Darabi¸ 2014). In Francophone West Africa, the Ministry of Education, in most cases, is in charge of the recruitment of teachers, the curriculum, the textbooks as well as the budget. Teachers do not have their say on the decision-making process and their voice is not considered as well as that of their students. Even the teaching method is chosen by the Ministry of Education. As a matter of fact, the competency-based approach is what is required in most Francophone West African countries. Thus, teachers’ role is to apply the policies without questioning and help their students pass national examinations. In this authoritarian environment, it will be difficult to apply pedagogies that call for challenging the status quo. Besides this banking type of education, some scholars posit that the inefficiency of preservice and in-service teacher preparation can impede the application of critical pedagogy and postmethod (Aliakbari & Allahmoradi, 2012; Sahragard et al., 2014). For instance, student teachers just learn the “how” meaning the techniques of teaching and they care about how they will impart their knowledge through engaging and compelling teaching methods. Thus, teacher education in Francophone West Africa trains teachers to become “passive technicians” rather than “transformative intellectuals” and critical reflective teachers (Brookfield, 2017; Giroux, 2011) who will challenge dominant and unequal ideologies and enact practices that will engage both themselves and their students in critical discourses. Furthermore, strict curriculum and textbooks are hurdles that hamper the application of critical pedagogy and postmethod (Delport, 2010; Safari & Pourhashemi, 2012). What is more problematic is western-centric textbooks that do not reflect African countries’ local needs and realities. This irrelevancy of curriculum leads to the unemployment of many graduate students and dims their future. Finally, one last possible limitation is the highly theoretical nature of critical pedagogy and postmethod and their possible cultural imposition and imperialism claimed by some scholars (Akbari, 2008a, b; Giroux, 2011; Neumann, 2013). In this sense, Akbari (2008b) affirms, “[Critical pedagogy and Postmethod] are taking

124  Ramata Diallo language teaching beyond the realms of possibility and practice” (p. 645). Furthermore, in Francophone West Africa, teachers have a high workload with classes with 50–100 students, whereas the salary is very low. So, they will not want to “act as iconoclasts and social transformers” (Akbari, 2008a, b). Lastly, the social environment of African society, which is based on respect and obedience to the elders and the resistance of both teachers and students to new active approaches in the classrooms like critical pedagogy and postmethod are other limitations in Francophone West Africa (Tabulawa, 2013). Thus, enacting postmethod pedagogy as well as critical pedagogy is an obstacle course with a lot of parameters to take into account before their implementation. Despite all these limitations mentioned above, critical pedagogy and postmethod can still be implemented in Francophone West Africa because they are very flexible. In other words, it is possible to enact critical practices no matter the limitations because it is not a one-size-fit-all but context-specific. A case in point is that some studies showed that all the teachers, when familiar with these pedagogies, agree and advocate for their application in their classroom and the educational system (Paudel, 2018). In addition, other studies demonstrated that they could be applied successfully (Motlhaka, 2015) and even lead to teachers’ professional success (Motallebzadeh et al., 2018). Thus, it can be argued that those pedagogies are possible and can be successful in Francophone western African countries because the key is to problematize and critically examine gaps and local realities in our particular context in order to challenge the status quo. In the next section, I will explore in detail how to apply critical pedagogy and postmethod in the region by using Mali as a specific example and other countries in the region when possible.

Practical Application for Francophone West Africa: The Case of Mali Critical pedagogy and postmethod are very enticing as pedagogies that can change and bring a fair and democratic educational system. The criticism that many researchers highlight is their lack of practicality. In this section, I describe some practical activities to implement a more critically oriented pedagogy in Mali precisely and in Francophone West Africa in general. I detail how negotiated syllabus, problem posing, and some macrostrategies can be used to enact critical pedagogy and postmethod in Malian classrooms.

The Negotiated Syllabus A negotiated syllabus means allowing the learners to make decisions regarding the content of the syllabus and curriculum (Öztürk, 2013).

Critical Pedagogy and Postmethod in Francophone West Africa  125 The negotiated syllabus promotes democratic strategies and takes into account learners’ needs. Besides, it motivates learners and develops appropriate activities and materials that suit the context. The purpose of this negotiated syllabus is to shift the traditional teacher–student relationship and give agency and responsibility to students in the process of learning. In Mali, at the university level, a full negotiated syllabus is possible because higher education institutions have more freedom in their curriculum. Moreover, university students are mature, and they already have negotiation skills. For example, on the first day of the course, the teacher can ask students to read the syllabus and propose what they suggest in terms of assessment and the type of activities they want, or the teacher can give them a choice to choose the date to turn in their assignment. In addition, teachers can ask their students to choose among certain books which are, of course, relevant to the class. Regarding large classes, teachers can divide students into small groups, and the class as a whole can decide what’s best after discussion. At that level, we can even go further by asking the students to choose articles or books about issues that concern them and ask them to analyze and come up with a realistic solution. A full negotiation in high schools is challenging in Mali, specifically in Francophone West Africa, due to a low-resource context, strict curriculum, limited time, top-down approach, and large class size, as it will result in more teachers’ workload. However, a partially negotiated syllabus can be possible. Indeed, teachers can ask students’ opinions on the assessment, activities, and topics. They can also use a class discussion to collect students’ viewpoints and even ask their students to use their first language during certain activities. In Mali, for instance, students need to have a class grade plus an exam grade. Thus, teachers can give a choice to their students to decide what type of assessment they want for the class grade. Furthermore, regarding course materials and book selection, teachers can select some activities and adapt them to their context. NOTE: One important thing I want to argue is that teachers can include critical pedagogy in their daily lessons even with a centralized system. They need to question the knowledge represented and if all the voices are included when providing any materials when doing any activities, and even when giving example sentences. I am not asking teachers to take all the class time to discuss social issues but to include marginalized students’ needs, voices, and realities of the local context in their teaching practices. Furthermore, we should be critical of critical pedagogy. Giving space for students to choose their own assignments or books is not critical on its own, nor does it aid in critical pedagogy practices. But it is a way forward to include your students’ voices and develop a dialogical pedagogy in the classroom, one of the tenets of Critical Pedagogy.

126  Ramata Diallo

Problem Posing Besides the negotiated syllabus, another way to apply critical pedagogy is through the problem-posing approach. Problem posing is a strategy that challenges repressive practices such as banking education and raises students’ critical consciousness. To apply this, teachers can use the five steps defined by Auerbach (1992) to critical thinking: “Describe the content, Define the problem, Personalize the problem, Discuss the problem, Discuss alternatives to the problem.” For instance, the teacher can ask their students to brainstorm the problems of their community, school, and country. Then, they pick one problem based on their interest and freewrite their opinions on this issue. Then, as a class, they vote for which issue they want to explore. Then, they analyze the causes of the problem and propose some alternative solutions. In Francophone West Africa, reading is the most important input source teachers use to teach English. However, this reading does not go beyond deciphering the text’s meaning but instead connects it to real-world issues and engages them in social action. Besides, the strict curriculum impedes teaching and learning, making renewing the curriculum challenging. Thus, a problem-posing approach to reading is the best way to practice critical pedagogy in your teaching. For instance, instead of elaborating on simple comprehension questions such as true or false, multiple-choice questions, or yes/ no questions on topics prescribed in the curriculum as it is right now, a teacher in Mali or in a Francophone West African country can: 1 Develop a critical text that will take into account the sociocultural realities of the context or adapt a text taken from the internet or from any textbook to fit the particularities of the context. 2 Elaborate problem posing questions on the text that goes beyond the text’s main idea and purpose. 3 Give a chance for students to share their opinions through small group works and activities like think-pair-share in large classes. 4 To bring social transformation and praxis, students can write a letter, do awareness campaigns, or create posters that can bring awareness and solutions depending on the topic. Another way to apply problem posing is the use of dialogue. Dialogue and role plays are ways that most teachers use to introduce and discuss a topic. However, most of the time, they are taught through practice drills without focusing on developing critical thinking in their students. Thus, Zervos and Latsko (1993) have developed a series of units using dialogue to apply problem-posing in Guinea-Bissau, a Portuguese West African country. It is structured around describing the situation, identifying the issue, relating it to personal experience, analyzing the underlying issues, and doing something. Here is one example:

Critical Pedagogy and Postmethod in Francophone West Africa  127 In this dialogue Augusto and his teacher are at school. TEACHER:  Augusto, we have class now. What are you doing? AUGUSTO:  I’m going to the hospital. I’m sick. TEACHER:  What’s the matter? AUGUSTO:  I have a headache and my stomach hurts. TEACHER:  Well, we have a test today. Are you really sick?

Problem-Posing Questions Stage I: Describe the Situation: 1 2 3 4

Does Augusto have class? Is Augusto going to the hospital, or is he going home? Where is the teacher going? Does the teacher want Augusto to go to class today?

Stage III: Identify the Issue: 1 What’s the matter with Augusto? 2 What’s happening in class today? Stage III: Relate the Situation to your Experience: 1 Do you get sick often? 2 What hurts when you’re sick? Your head? Your stomach? What else can be wrong? 3 What do you do when you’re sick? (Examples: stay home, go to the hospital or health center, go to school) 4 What happens when you miss school? When you miss homework? When do you miss a test? Do you talk to someone about the work you missed? Stage IV: Analyze the Underlying Issues: 1 Why does the teacher ask if Augusto is really sick? If he isn’t sick, why might he want to miss school? 2 Why is Augusto going to the hospital? What could they do for him there? 3 How can the hospital help? What would happen if he didn’t go? 4 Where else do people go for medical help? What about traditional medicine? 5 What illnesses do people get? What can cause headaches, stomachaches, and other health problems? What causes illnesses?

128  Ramata Diallo Stage V: Do Something: 1 Can illnesses be avoided? Which illnesses? What can you do to prevent them? 2 Should people work when they are sick? 3 If you are sick, what can you do? 4 If you miss school, what can you do about the work you miss? (From Zervos & Latsko, 1993 as cited by Schleppegrell & Bowman, 1995, p. 307) This activity can be applied to any topic and any context, no matter how strict the curriculum is. Besides, teachers may think that dialogue is timeconsuming and may delay the teaching tasks that they have to accomplish; however, Freire (2005) says, “Any delay caused by dialogue—in reality, a fictitious delay—means time saved in firmness, in self-confidence, and confidence in others, which anti-dialogue cannot offer” (p. 110). It is important to note that critical pedagogy is not used to replace teaching methods but rather to add a critical component to the instruction, the curriculum, the textbooks, and the method used. The goal is to be aware of the diversity, and the power structures embedded in learning, and take those oppressive ideas outside the classroom. In this sense, every teacher can enact critical practices no matter how strict the curriculum is and how challenging the context is. These are some strategies to apply critical pedagogy in Mali specifically and Francophone West Africa in general. As for Postmethod, it is possible to use the macrostrategies framework of Kumaravadivelu (2003) and develop some activities to apply in the classroom. In this section, I create some activities under a few macrostrategies of Kumaravadivelu (2003) about immigration (a major topic in the Malian curriculum) plus other microstrategies suggested by Birjandi and Hashamdar (2014) and Ahmad (2014).

Macrostrategy: Maximize Learning Opportunities To maximize learning opportunities, I propose an activity that aims to promote collaboration and gives space to students to use the language through the topic of immigration. The students, first of all, watch a short video about immigration. Then, the teacher pairs up students to discuss their viewpoints about the video. Afterward, the pair report their answers, and the teacher writes down a question: Is immigration good or bad? Then, every student chooses their position. After a couple of minutes, every student shares their opinion and explains why they are in favor of or against immigration. Birjandi and Hashamdar (2014) proposed other microstrategies under this macrostrategy. One of the microstrategies is the competition

Critical Pedagogy and Postmethod in Francophone West Africa  129 game. They argue that competition games such as word knowledge games, function games, reading comprehension games, listening comprehension games, and many other games can push silent students to engage in learning. Another microstrategy is cyberspace that can integrate multiple English skills. In order to maximize learning in vocabulary and reading, teachers ask the learners to surf on the net and find an article. Next, they are required to give a number of new vocabularies with the guessed meanings without looking for them in dictionaries. By doing so, learners will be able to guess the meanings as soon as they see a new word in a text. Now for reading comprehension, teachers ask students to follow a top-down approach and explain the main idea of the text. For maximizing learning opportunities for the listening skill, teachers can ask students to download any videos on CNN, VOA, BBC, and the like, and students should write or tell the whole story without transcribing word by word what they have heard.

Macrostrategy: Intuitive Heuristics Under this strategy, the following activity helps learners elicit and detect grammar rules for better understanding. First, the teacher writes down sample sentences about the simple past and asks the students in a group of three to highlight the difference. Then, the students in small groups work out the rules and report their answers to the whole class. In the following step, the teacher ensures that the rule is understood. Finally, the students create their own sentences. Here are some other strategies proposed by Birjandi and Hashamdar (2014). The first one is the research topic of the week. For instance, teachers can sham that they do not know a specific topic and ask each learner to search and come up with enough information about it. Then, students present their findings. Another microstrategy is surfing the net. Teachers can ask learners to search on the Internet to find some pieces of information about different topics such as new places, new discoveries, and other pieces of information. This activity will help them become familiar with a search engine such as Google and Firefox.

Macrostrategy: Negotiated Interaction The goal of this activity is to make space for students to discuss and interact with themselves and the teacher. In this activity, the teacher divides the class into two groups “for” and “against.” One group supports the topic of immigration, and the other disagrees with the topic. The teacher can teach students some critical reasoning skills to help them make their arguments and convince their fellow students. Then after the activity, the students can reflect on their journal about their stance.

130  Ramata Diallo Striking a bargain is a microstrategy by Birjandi and Hashamdar (2014) and a cooperative decision-making activity that facilitates discussion and interaction. The teacher can create situations in which compromising, agreeing, and negotiation are needed to achieve the goals. For example, the teacher divides the class in pairs and asks students to play roles as shopkeepers and customers. One student can play a shopkeeper who is hard to get a bargain from, and the other plays the role of a customer who intends to buy the goods much cheaper.

Macrostrategy: Integrating Language Skills The purpose of this activity is to include all four skills—listening, reading, speaking, and writing—in a single activity. For instance, the students, in small groups, will be given some question cards, such as: What are the effects of immigration on the economy? Why are white considered expats and Black and other communities as immigrants? Then, the teacher gives them some time to prepare their responses and make a presentation. Next, the other groups take notes about what they have heard. After one presentation, they ask questions about the topic. Another microstrategy is an integrated task developed by Ahmad (2014). First and foremost, teachers ask each student to bring three or four pictures about some events from the past and prepare a short speech about each picture using the past tense. In class, teachers demonstrate the activity to familiarize students with the pattern. The classmates listen and take notes. After each learner’s speech, the teacher should allow classmates to read their notes and ask questions of the speaker. This step will encompass interaction and negotiation as listeners are expected to ask the speaker for clarification, or they may check for accurate grammar structures because the presentation will have been about the past.

Macrostrategy: Social Relevance and Raising Cultural Consciousness This strategy asks the teacher to consider the social, economic, political, and educational environment in which learning and teaching take place. My activity aims to connect the topic of immigration to the wider social context. In this activity, students can write a letter or create a poster to sensitize young people about the social and economic consequences of immigration. Then, the teacher will help them publish these letters or posters online to touch more people. Another strategy can be Ethnographic interview developed by Ahmad (2014). In this activity, the teacher and students brainstorm different topics relevant to students’ needs and interests. Then, he/she divides the class into small groups and assigns each group one specific topic.

Critical Pedagogy and Postmethod in Francophone West Africa  131 After, they ask the learners within each group to agree on at least one question to ask the interviewee. Teachers should exemplify the best types of questions for learners to design (i.e., referential or descriptive questions). During the task, students take notes, listen carefully, and have sufficient time to ask their questions to the interviewee. After the interview, the teacher asks each group to collaboratively write a short descriptive essay about the interviewee’s responses and if they agree with him/ her. In the next class, each group should present the essay and state their opinions about the topic. Finally, the teacher can ask their students what they think about the activity. NOTE: I consider it necessary to reflect upon our teaching practices, our students’ pedagogical needs, and the sociocultural conditions of our context before and after applying postmethod and critical pedagogy. Therefore, teachers should not forget to do critical reflection because it will help identify their biases and constraints and come up with some solutions. For instance, teachers can ask themselves the following questions: 1 What teaching method do I use the most? Does it lead my students to think critically? 2 Which perspective and voice do I promote during my teaching? 3 How do the school requirements impede my critical practices? How can I remediate this? 4 Which activities can I apply to maximize and promote my students’ voices and views? 5 How can I fix the challenges I encountered during these activities? As you see, all these practical activities can be adapted to any contexts and any topics no matter the macro, meso, and micro challenges. It depends on teachers’ willingness to challenge the status quo and offer a better learning experience to their students. However, they are suggestions and not some one-size-fit-all solutions to implement critical pedagogy and postmethod in Francophone West Africa. Besides, it is wise to move beyond a dichotomy view of good student-centered critical pedagogies versus bad traditional teacher-centered pedagogies. For Francophone West Africa, it is appropriate to combine traditional approaches with critical pedagogies for local adaptations that acknowledge the context, the students, and teachers, as well as the wider social context in which this education takes place and emphasize criticality.

Moving Forward It is evident from the above discussion that critical pedagogy and postmethod are relevant in Francophone West Africa because they urge us to situate our pedagogies within a context and problematize the gaps

132  Ramata Diallo in our context. Therefore, everybody can engage in meaningful and critical practices because there are no fixed and specific guidelines, and students’ context and lived experiences are different. It is true that it is challenging to enact critical pedagogy and postmethod in Francophone West Africa under a centralized and top-down educational system, an examination-oriented culture, and a strict curriculum. But for me, these challenges are what Freire (1990) calls “limit-situations” (p. 89), and by taking action to transform them, teachers will see that beyond these situations, there is an “untested feasibility,” which is a possibility to overcome those challenges. Regarding the context of Francophone West Africa, I think we should first rethink the preservice and in-service teacher education programs to provide better training based on reflexivity and criticality, which will give them space to question and challenge ideologies and assumptions underpinning their practices and the teacher education program itself. Furthermore, stakeholders and policymakers should include local languages and produce resources and materials embedded in democratic and critical perspectives focusing on local contexts to curb hegemonic ideologies. In addition, the curriculum and the assessment methods should be restructured and in alignment with critical pedagogy and postmethod. Besides, a supportive environment should help teachers implement these critical pedagogies. Finally, we need to be critical of critical pedagogy and postmethod as well as of the existing and current teaching methods we use in classrooms. Thus, I believe that more empirical studies should be conducted to investigate the applicability of the pedagogies and the suggested activities in Francophone West Africa. Such studies should examine the reality of the local context to enact a postmethod and critical pedagogy that adheres to the context and particularities of Francophone West Africa.

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134  Ramata Diallo Mtika, P., & Gates, P. 2010. Developing learner-centred education among secondary trainee teachers in Malawi: The dilemma of appropriation and application. International Journal of Educational Development, 30(4), pp. 396–404. Negash, N. (2011). English language in Africa: An impediment or a contributor to development? Perceptions of English. Neumann, J. W. (2013). Advocating for a more effective Critical Pedagogy by examining structural obstacles to critical educational reform. The Urban Review, 45(5), 728–740. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11256-013-0244-7 Ochwa-Echel, J. R. (2013). Neoliberalism and university education in SubSaharan Africa. SAGE Open, 3. https://doi.org/10.1177/2158244013504933 Ogunniyi, M. B., & Rollnick, M. (2015). Pre-service science teacher education in Africa: Prospects and challenges. Journal of Science Teacher Education, 26, 65–79. Otara, A., Uworwabayeho, A., Nzabalirwa, W., & Kayisenga, B. (2019). From ambition to practice: An analysis of teachers’ attitude toward learner-centered pedagogy in public primary schools in Rwanda. SAGE Open, 9(1). https://doi. org/10.1177/2158244018823467 Öztürk, G. (2013). A negotiated syllabus: Potential advantages and drawbacks in English preparatory programs at universities. International Journal on New Trends in Education and Their Implications, 4(2), 35–40. Paudel, P. (2018). Teachers’ perception on postmethod pedagogy in EFL classes of Nepal. Prithvi Academic Journal, 1(1), 46–57. https://doi.org/10.3126/paj. v1i1.25899 Pennycook, A. (2009). Global Englishes and Transcultural Flows. Applied Linguistics, 30(2), 305–307. Safari, P., & Pourhashemi, M. R. (2012). Toward an empowering pedagogy: Is there room for critical pedagogy in educational system of Iran? Theory and Practice in Language Studies, 2(12), 2548–2555. https://doi.org/10.4304/ tpls.2.12.2548-2555 Sahragard, R., Razmjoo, S. A., & Baharloo, A. (2014). The practicality of Critical Pedagogy from Iranian EFL instructors’ viewpoints: A cross sectional study. The International Journal of Critical Pedagogy, 5(2), Article 2. http://libjournal. uncg.edu/ijcp/article/view/598 Schleppegrell, M., & Bowman, B. (1995). Problem-posing: A tool for EFL curriculum renewal. ELT Journal 49 (4), 297–307. Tabulawa, R. (2013). Teaching and learning in context: Why pedagogical reforms fail in Sub-Saharan Africa. Oxford: African Books Collective. Talatou, A. (2017). Colonial legacies and preservice teacher subjectivities in Mali: A critical examination of two teacher training programs (Publication No. 2181691633) [Doctoral dissertation, University of Utah]. ProQuest Dissertations Publishing. Tejan-Sie, J. F. (2018). An exploration of poverty and underdevelopment in Sub-Saharan Africa through critical theory, critical pedagogy and post-colonial theory perspectives (Publication No. 2063009797) [Doctoral dissertation, University of North Carolina]. ProQuest Dissertations Publishing. Zervos, E., & Latsko, J. (1993). What’s up? First year English for Guinea-Bissau. Bissau, Guinea-Bissau: Peace Corps.

11 Critical Pedagogy and Writing in Online L2 Instruction Post-COVID Suggestions for New Teachers Marcela Hebbard

Introduction As a result of the global pandemic, educators of all levels, from preschool to postsecondary education, had to migrate their courses to remote teaching. Despite many teachers’ commitment to supporting student learning and students’ resiliency, this global health crisis exacerbated, in a painstaking manner, the exclusionary disparities that exist in online settings, not only among students but also in faculty training. The New York City Public School system is an example regarding students. In March 2020, the system migrated 75,000 pre-K-12 teachers to a fully online environment. The system serves more than 1.1 million children in 1,800 schools. It is estimated that 114,000 of these children quickly fell behind in school because they live in shelters or unstable housing where internet access is limited or nonexistent (Steward, 2020). A recent study shows that experienced teachers had to quickly adopt an approach called “emergency remote teaching” (ERT), which requires them to display constant reflexivity and take more control of course design and development, as well as implementation of the process guiding their pedagogies (Karakaya, 2021, p. 296). However, despite instructional expertise, other studies have revealed that many teachers remain unfamiliar with online pedagogy (Istenič, 2021; Sayer & Braun, 2020). An often overlooked aspect of online pedagogy is its dependence on printed orthographic text. That is, most online courses and web-based resources, regardless of discipline or grade level, rely heavily on printed text in English for instruction, communication, and assessment. As a result, writing and language can (un)intentionally become tools for marginalization and exclusion. Although marginalization and exclusion existed prior to the pandemic, this health crisis has exacerbated the problem and made it visible. A group that has been disproportionately affected is English learners (ELs). Scholars estimate that more than 4.9 million English learners (ELs) and their families have been disproportionately affected by online education because they are expected to understand culturally specific examples in class materials, as well as to DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-12

136  Marcela Hebbard work through material and school-provided technology in a language they do not understand (Sayer & Braun, 2020; Sharma, 2020). This form of marginalization is amplified when writing and language instructors implement assessment practices grounded in a deficit model (Gherwash & Paiz, 2019; Istenič, 2021; Paris & Alim, 2017). Thus, to assist English language instructors new to online settings in college programs to avoid marginalizing students because of their writing and language use, this chapter offers suggestions on how to use writing from a rhetorical perspective to make online classrooms more inclusive. To accomplish this, I draw on Principles for Online Writing Instruction (OWI), critical language pedagogy, and my own experiences as a teacher of sociolinguistics and first-year college composition courses.

Conceptual Framework Online writing instruction, in this chapter, refers to the meta-attitudes and beliefs about language that guide online practitioners’ creation of classroom materials and delivery from a rhetorical perspective. These meta-attitudes are informed by OWI and critical pedagogy. Together, they served as the theoretical underpinnings for this work. Next, I briefly describe what the principles of OWI are and how they relate to critical pedagogy.

Principles for Online Writing Instruction In 2013, the Conference on College Composition and Communication (CCCC) published a statement containing 15 principles that recognized the need to create fully inclusive environments for the equitable and appropriate teaching of writing at the postsecondary level (Hewett & DePew, 2015). This document was created by the CCCC Committee for Effective Practices for Online Writing Instruction, and with the support of the CCCC Committee for Second Language Writing and Writers and the CCCC Committee on Disability Issues in College Composition. While the statement focuses mostly on providing accessibility and inclusivity to multilingual students whose first language is not English and students with disabilities in the composition classroom, its principles apply to all students as well as to any discipline and field that employs writing as a means for instruction and assessment including L2 instructors. For the purpose of this chapter, I will focus on the following two principles: • OWI Principle 1: Online writing instruction should be universally inclusive and accessible • OWI Principle 5: Online writing teachers should retain reasonable control over their own content and/or techniques for conveying, teaching, and assessing their students’ writing in their online writing courses.

Critical Pedagogy and Writing in Online L2 Instruction Post-COVID  137 OWI Principle 1 calls for teachers to employ flexible and diverse approaches to the teaching of reading and writing to ensure pedagogical and physical access to students with varying physical, learning, linguistic, and socioeconomic challenges (CCCC “Overarching”). It also recommends that practitioners avoid adopting digital technologies uncritically and asks them to consider the guidelines of universal design when developing their online courses. Some of the guidelines include ensuring usability, which refers to “the degree to which the average user of a tool can successfully use that tool to achieve their purposes with minimum stress and frustration” (Gherwash & Paiz, 2019), as well as flexibility in use, which means to make sure that the course and its digital design accommodate a wide range of individual preferences and abilities. This principle recognizes that multilingual learners may have a different working knowledge of academic English and/or different cultural backgrounds that might interfere with how they interact with the instructor-chosen technological tools used in a given course. OWI Principle 5 acknowledges the tension that can exist between the institutional and programmatic mandated outcomes and requirements as well as the freedom experienced educators need to teach effectively (CCCC “Rationale”). This principle argues that practitioners do their best work when they are allowed to retain some control over their courses and calls on programs that utilize course templates, core syllabi, and/or predesigned course shells to balance institutional pedagogical goals with teacher flexibility. Some goals online writing pedagogy has included assisting educators avoid adopting digital technologies uncritically, encouraging intellectual creativity, as well as providing support to help instructors navigate institutional and programmatic mandates effectively. However, because all education is impacted by unequal social and political power structures, it is crucial that language and writing educators, seasoned and new, develop a critical conscience, defined as becoming aware of their own multiple positionalities and beliefs regarding technology, writing, and the English language (Douglas Fir Group, 2016). Some of these positionalities include having or not freedom over course development, their gender (how they perceive themselves and how others perceive them), the purpose of the writing technologies they want to adopt in their classrooms is (e.g., blogs, discussion boards, email), the rhetorical decisions on how they present text-based content in their courses, and the role of the English language in their pedagogies. The notion of critical pedagogy, which I discuss next, can assist instructors in developing a critical conscience.

A Brief Discussion on Critical Pedagogy Scholars in writing studies claim that all education is ideological (Berlin, 1982; Fulkerson, 2005; Goldblatt, 2017). That is, all teachers function

138  Marcela Hebbard within a system of ideas and ideals of what being a teacher is, what the role of students is, and how the subject matter should be taught and assessed. Critical scholars expand this view and argue that our individual systems of ideas and ideals are shaped by unequal social and political power structures that exist between groups of people (Breuing, 2011; Kubota & Miller, 2017). Citing Gramsci, Bartolome (2015) defines ideology as “the power of ideas of the ruling class to overshow and eradicate competing views” (p. 508). The author explains that teachers hold to these ruling ideologies unconsciously and uncritically and many consider them as “natural” or generally invisible. Bartolome identifies three key harmful ideologies. First, meritocracy or the belief that students can do well if they only work hard. Second, an assimilationist ideology, which refers to the belief that non-white foreign and US-born minorities should be taught to conform to the dominant English-only mainstream culture. And third, a deficit ideology, or the belief that the sociocultural background of minority students is the contributive factor for poor academic performance. In online settings, these harmful ideologies can manifest in multiple ways. For instance, denigrating students’ written English varieties and privileging the teacher’s variety, assuming that all students can get the same access in quality and degree of technology if they just try or believing students lack academic capital when they do not understand the instructor’s created text-based content. Advocates and practitioners of critical pedagogy must consistently reevaluate their curriculum to ensure that they are not subscribing to exclusionary ideologies and, in turn, are developing counter-hegemonic ideological orientations (Bartolome, 2015). Next, I draw on the notion of postmethod and incorporate writing from a rhetorical perspective as a plausible way to develop counterhegemonic orientations and provide examples on how these orientations might look like in language courses delivered fully online.

Incorporating Critical Pedagogy in Online Writing Instruction One way to develop a critical conscience that counter hegemonic orientations is by adopting a postmethod ideology regarding the English language and its role in our pedagogies. In Critical Language Pedagogy, Kumaravadivelu (2003) argues that because the expansion of the English language was aided by colonialist and imperialist agendas, the methods in the teaching of English language adhere to a colonial agenda—one that favors the native speaker and marginalizes the Other (Kumaravadivelu, 2003 p. 540). The author calls instructors to decolonize English language teaching. To do this, he proposes an alternative to method rather than an alternative method which he refers to as postmethod. Postmethod, for Kumaravadivelu, is an attitude of the mind that contains the parameters of particularity, practicality, and possibility. The

Critical Pedagogy and Writing in Online L2 Instruction Post-COVID  139 parameter of particularity makes particular groups of teachers, teaching particular groups of students, in particular institutional contexts its center. The parameter of practicality refers to the relationship between theory and practice and acknowledges there are different ways of knowing, including the one generated by the practicing teacher. The parameter of possibility is based on Paulo Freire’s principles of empowering students through engaging them in critical reflection on the social and historical conditions in their context and how these affect their lives (Kumaravadivelu, p. 544). Together, these parameters constitute the conceptual rationale to construct a postmethod pedagogy—one that seeks to challenge marginality through a bottom-up process in which local teachers use their personal and professional knowledge to construct general plans and classroom techniques that are sensitive to their locals needs, wants, and situations (Kumaravadivelu, p. 545). What might the parameters look like in an online environment? These parameters call instructors to be critically aware of their sociocultural and educational context in relation to their own positionalities and practice. For instance, if an instructor has limited or no flexibility for developing courses with content, methods, and technologies that best suit their purposes, expertise, and teaching style, they might end up with a “banking system course.” The banking system refers to a course where both teacher and students become passive actors and depositories of manufactured and pre-packed knowledge, incapable of thinking for themselves (Freire, 1970/2000). Conversely, instructors that have full freedom over their courses could adopt a position of power and make assumptions about students’ intelligence and academic ability based on their written linguistic performance and label some as ignorant or deficient if they are not careful (Lee & Jenks, 2016). Either position has negative effects on students. Thus, it is crucial that new L2 instructors reflect critically about the parameters of particularity, practicality, and possibility. Kumaravadivelu (2003) also provides a list of ten macrostrategies or broad guidelines teachers can use in order to generate their own classroom techniques. For the purpose of this chapter, I discuss macrostrategies #2 and # 10 in connection to writing in order to make the L2 online classrooms more inclusive.

Macrostrategy 2—Minimize Perceptual Mismatches This macrostrategy is about recognizing potential mismatches between teacher intentions and learner interpretation, and what to do about them. Course syllabi are potential sites where mismatches can happen between the teacher and the students. As a text, the syllabus functions to communicate to students “how to learn in a class as well as what to learn” (Parkes, Fix, & Harris, 2003. Italics mine), and what specific tools, and not others, will be used to foster and assess their learning (Russell,

140  Marcela Hebbard 1997). Regarding its content, it describes and organizes the work in the classroom for both the instructors and the students, thus affecting how they participate in learning activities (Kain & Wardle, 2017). This strategy connects with OWI Principle 5 in that it reminds us that these rules and division of labor do not exist in a vacuum; instead, they are imposed on both students and instructors and constantly change. Teachers are expected to meet departmentally and institutionally mandated course objectives and assessments, while students are responsible for completing assignments and complying with course policies established by their instructors and the institution. In F2F contexts, instructors can easily recognize potential mismatches in student interpretation of syllabi. They can rely on cues such as eye contact, gestures, and oral participation. However, in online courses, because we rely heavily on written text, we cannot see student understanding (Warnock, 2009). Thus, in order to minimize a mismatch, instructors should pay close attention to how they design their syllabus. Natasha N. Jones (2018) argues that syllabi are genre ecologies because of their “mediatory relationship of other genres and relationships in the ecology” (p. 32). As an individual genre, the syllabus includes other genres within it, such as descriptions of assignment sheets, course handouts, student learning outcomes, calendars, and links to technologies in and out of the classroom. In addition to its mediatory function, a syllabus also serves to regulate not only the other genres in the ecology, but also to “affect the human actors in the ecology” (Jones, 2018, p. 32). A syllabus can affect human actors positively or negatively. For example, since the syllabus sets the tone for students by letting them know the division of labor and the rules, if it is not clear in its design or function, it can destabilize the interaction between the different groups of actors (e.g., student–student, student–teacher, students–institutional support systems) (Jones & Wheeler, 2017). It is then recommended that instructors incorporate student input in the (re)design of their syllabi and consider the impact visual design might have on students’ ability to easily use the document. Regarding language, I draw on Gherwash and Paiz’s (2019) suggestions for creating Online Writing Labs for L2 writers and transposing their ideas to syllabus creation while also adding my own suggestions. Instructors should consider the following questions when designing their syllabus: • What level of language proficiency is needed for a student in this class to fully comprehend the content of this text? • If a specific level is required, is the given proficiency level made clear to the student? • Does the syllabus acknowledge that there are Englishes and ways of using English beyond those that exist as prestige varieties in Australia, Canada, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, and the United States? • If jargon is present in the syllabus, is it adequately explained?

Critical Pedagogy and Writing in Online L2 Instruction Post-COVID  141 If the answer to any of these questions is no, the content needs to be reworked to make it globally inclusive, which means to make content that can be understood in and outside North America (Gherwash & Paiz, 2019, p. 8). Self-reflection on questions about language usage can help L2 teachers decenter their dominant discourse ideologies by creating value and visibility around other English varieties. When designing other text-based materials for the online environment, it would be helpful if instructors, in addition to the questions described previously, also ask themselves rhetorical questions such as: • • • • •

What is the purpose of this text? What does this text ask students to do and think? What is the tone (e.g., serious, friendly)? What is the form of this text (e.g., announcement, blog prompt, discussion board prompt, handout, email, PowerPoint)? Does my writing adhere to the general function for this form?

For example, in online settings, the function of the announcement tool is to post important information the instructor wants students to know in an abbreviated way. Announcements that are too long do not work very well; students can get lost. L2 instructors interested in learning more about general features of different genres used for academic purposes can read Brock Dethier’s 2013 book, 21 Genres and How to Write Them, as a starting point.

Macrostrategy 10—Raise Cultural Consciousness This macrostrategy emphasizes the need to treat learners as cultural informants. Critical pedagogy as conceptualized by Freire views students as co-investigators engaged in mutual humanization with the teacher through dialogue (Freire, 1970/2000). Standardized curricula diminished the ability to engage in dialogue. Thus, scholars in education have proposed different pedagogies to counter a centralized curriculum. One proposed pedagogy is called place-based education (PBE). PBE sees students as producers rather than consumers of knowledge, and place and community as central elements in shaping identity and subjectivity. It emphasizes local literacies, community-oriented projects and pedagogies, and hands-on activities. McInerney, Smyth, and Down (2011) offer an example of PBE in an Australian context. Between 2005 and 2007, they conducted a multi-sited ethnographic study that focused on school and community relations to promote school retention and student engagement among high school students deemed “at-risk.” Drawing on information gathered from teacher/student interviews and participant observation activities, they described three examples of place-based pedagogies in their context all related to maritime themes.

142  Marcela Hebbard •

Example 1: A [female] teacher involves her students in the restoration of a boardwalk. • Examples 2 and 3: Two other instructors in an education course develop a project with a specialized school where their students work with severely disabled children. The researchers found that bringing students into contact with people and local organizations helped them see a greater purpose in their school. Students also developed new ways of making meaning. The challenge of PBE that the authors identified is that places change constantly. In addition, places contain inequalities that can reinforce stratification and stereotypes in students’ and instructors’ minds if they are not critically interrogated. PBE relates to L2 teaching in an online setting by inviting instructors to devise projects that bring the classroom and students’ local communities together. Because language shapes personal and cultural identities (Dicker, 2003; Holmes, 2013; Norton, 2016), when students—monolingual and multilingual—enter the online environment, they already bring with them heritage-based cultural and linguistic practices that will continue to be expressed, revealed, or created through language (Gee, 2004). Thus, students’ cultural practices, home languages, and/or language varieties must be valued and incorporated in their learning and construction of knowledge. In addition, students should be guided to interrogate issues of power that inhabit their local communities. For example, L2 instructors in intermediate or low advanced classes could scaffold the following activity. • •

•

•

First, ask students to read a reputable news outlet published in their L1 that describes a social problem in their local communities. Next, have students write/translate a summary of the news article in English and explain their process for writing their summary with a diagram, visual aid, or concept map, including what challenges they experienced. This will help students develop metalinguistic heuristics. After that, guide students in analyzing their selected social problem from a linguistic perspective. Guiding questions to consider: What is the social problem? What groups of people participate in this social problem? What role do they play? How does this social problem impact each group? How is the dominant group described in the article in comparison with the disadvantaged group? To end the activity, invite students to write a short reflection about what they have learned about the role language plays in the creation and dissemination of news.

While this activity is quite general and has limitations, it can provide L2 instructors with an idea of how to incorporate students’ cultural

Critical Pedagogy and Writing in Online L2 Instruction Post-COVID  143 knowledge and use of their local languages to support their learning of English as an additional language.

Moving Forward In this chapter, I offer suggestions to L2 English language instructors who are new to online settings on how to use writing from a rhetorical perspective to make online classrooms more inclusive. One example addresses them as producers of texts and invites them to design better syllabi by requesting student input. The other suggestion targets students and gives an idea on how to raise cultural awareness of social issues. Both examples align with postmethod pedagogy that seeks to decolonize the dominant varieties of English through critical reflection. I leave the readers with the following questions related to examining our critical consciousness around the expectations of writing in our courses. These questions are reflexive in nature: •

Do the class materials currently used in my courses incorporate culture-specific examples? If so, what changes can I do to make them more culturally inclusive? • Do I request student input about the design of my syllabus or class materials? • Do I understand the different rhetorical purposes various writing tools have in the Learning Management System at my institution? (For example, between wikis, blogs, journals, discussion boards, and assignments.) In sum, engaging in constant reflexivity and interrogating our language and writing ideologies can assist us in paving the way to strengthen our teaching efforts in order to ensure student success in online environments.

References Bartolome, L. (2015). Preparing to teach newcomer students: The significance of critical pedagogy and the study of ideology in teacher education. National Society for the Study of Education, 109(2), 505–526. Berlin, J. (1982). Contemporary composition: The major pedagogical theories. College English, 44(8), 765–777. https://doi.org/10.2307/377329 Breuing, M. (2011). Problematizing critical pedagogy. International Journal of Critical Pedagogy, 3(3), 2–23. CCCC (n.d.) “OWI overarching principle: Effective practices in action.” OWI Open Resource. Conference on College Composition and Communication. https:// cccc.ncte.org/cccc/owi-open-resource/overarching CCCC (2013). “Rationale for OWI principle 5.” Conference on College Composition and Communication. https://ncte.org/statement/owiprinciples/

144  Marcela Hebbard Dethier, B. (2013). 21 Genres and how to write them. Colorado: Utah State University Press. Print. Dicker, S. J. (2003). Languages in America: A pluralist view (2nd edition). Buffalo: Multilingual Matters. Douglas Fir Group (2016). A transdisciplinary framework for SLA in a multilingual world. The Modern Language Journal, 100, Supplement, 19–47. Freire, P. (1970/2000). Pedagogy of the oppressed. (30th anniversary edition). New York: Continuum. Freire, P. (1998). Pedagogy of freedom: Ethics, democracy, and civic courage. New York: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc. Fulkerson, R. (2005). Composition at the turn of the twenty-first century. College Composition and Communication, 56(4), 654–687. Gee, J. P. (2004). Discourse analysis: What makes it critical? In Rogers, R. (Ed.), An introduction to critical discourse analysis in education (pp. 19–50). New York: Routledge. Gherwash, G. & Paiz, J. M. (2019). Building online writing labs: Recommendations for L2 writing content development. TESOL Journal, 1–14. https://doi. org/10.1002/tesj.479 Goldblatt, E. (2017). Don’t call it expressivism: Legacies of a “tacit tradition”. College Composition and Communication, 68(3), 438–465. Gramsci, A. (1935/1971). Selections from the prison notebooks (Q. Hoare & G. Smith, Trans.). New York: International Publishers. Hewett, B. L. & K. E. DePew (Eds.). (2015). Foundational practices of online writing instruction. The WAC Clearinghouse; Parlor Press. https://doi.org/10.37514/ PER-B.2015.0650 Holmes, J. (2013). An introduction to sociolinguistics (4th edition). New York: Routledge. Istenič, A. (2021). Online learning under Covid-19: Re-examining the prominence of video-based and text-based feedback. Educational Technology Research and Development, 69, 117–121. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11423-021-09955-w Jones, N. (2018). Human centered syllabus design: Positioning our students as expert end-users. Computers and Composition, 49, 25–35. Jones, N. & Wheeler, S. (2017). Document design and social justice. In Wardle, E. & Downs, D. (Eds.), Writing about writing: A college reader (3rd edition, pp. 654–691). Boston: Bedfort/St. Martin’s. Kain, D. & Wardle, E. (2017). Activity theory: An introduction for the writing classroom. In Wardle, E. & Downs, D. (Eds.), Writing about writing: A college reader (3rd edition, pp. 395–406). Boston: Bedfort/St. Martin’s. Karakaya, K. (2021). Design considerations in emergency remote teaching during the Covid-19 pandemic: A human-centered approach. Education Tech Research Development, 69, 295–299. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11423-020-09884-0 Kubota, R. & Miller, E. (2017). Re-examining and re-envisioning criticality in language studies: Theories and praxis. Critical Inquiry in Language Studies, 14(2– 3), 129–157. https://doi.org/10.1080/15427587.2017.1290500 Kumaravadivelu, B. (2003). Critical language pedagogy: A post-method perspective on English language teaching. World Englishes, 22(4), 539–550. Lee, J. W. & Jenks, C. (2016). Doing translingual disposition. College Composition and Communication, 68(2), 317–344.

Critical Pedagogy and Writing in Online L2 Instruction Post-COVID  145 McInerney, P., Smyth, J. & Down, B. (2011). ‘Coming to a place near you?’ The politics and possibilities of a critical pedagogy of place-based education. AsiaPacific Journal of Teacher Education, 39(1), 3–16. Norton, B. (2016). Identity and language learning: Back to the future. TESOL Quarterly, 50(2), 475–478. Paris, D. & Alim, H. S. (2017). Culturally sustaining pedagogies. New York: Teachers College Press. Parkes, J., Fix, T. & Harris, M. (2003). What syllabi communicate about assessment in the college classroom. Journal of Excellence in College Teaching, 14(1), 61–83. Russell, D. R. (1997). Rethinking genre in school and society: An activity theory analysis. Written Communication, 14, 504–39. Print. Sayer, P. & Braun, D. (2020). The disparate impact of Covid-19 remote learning on English learners in the United States. TESOL Journal, 11, e546. https://doi. org/10.1002/tesj.546 Sharma, R. (2020, April 22). Imagine Online School in a Language You Don’t Understand. https://www.nytimes.com/2020/04/22/us/coronavirus-immigrantsschool.html Steward, N. (2020, March 26). She’s 10, Homeless and Eager to Learn. But She Has No Internet. https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/26/nyregion/new-york-homelessstudents-coronavirus.html Warnock, S. (2009). Teaching writing online: How & why. Urbana, IL: National Council of Teachers of English.

12 “A Hope That Moves Us” Embodied Critical Hope in One Graduate Program’s Fight against Faculty Retrenchments Megan E. Heise Introduction I begin my chapter with Rebecca Solnit’s (2016) “the future is dark, with a darkness as much of the womb as the grave” (p. 5) to remind myself that within darkness still can lie hope, the darkness of the womb as a space of generativity, and the creation of something new. Beginning with this excerpt feels appropriate, given the darkness and confusion of the times I write about here, and the anchor that the concept of critical hope became for me during these times. The title of the book this line comes from, Hope in the Dark, is indeed how I see critical hope—as a beacon of light in times of crisis to imagine new (and better) tomorrows. But first, I need to tell you our story, from my perspective, starting in the fall of 2020. I never expected it would become a radical act to envision my mentors by my side, teaching at my institution, when I would defend my dissertation. As a second-year PhD student, I took for granted that the strong relationships I’d developed with my teachers and advisors would remain with me to the end of my PhD journey. In my third semester of coursework, I had already chosen my dissertation chair and readers, and at the start of the fall 2020 semester, there were no reasons to believe that they would not be there with me at my defense, when that time came. Week by week, though, some cracks began to appear: an advisor emailing me saying they’d be late to our check-in because of an “upsetting meeting” that had just ended, a teacher dropping the word “retrenchment” into conversation at the end of a class. It seemed vague, abstract then; our program was internationally recognized, a top money-maker in the university, and already understaffed from unfilled retirements by nearly half. Something horrible was coming, but it wasn’t coming for us, surely not. Our collective delusions dissolved on October 30, 2020. I had just started the Halloween party I was hosting on Zoom for my program, admiring my rainbow eyebrows and perfectly coiffed unicorn mane while I waited for the rest of the attendees to join. As Maleficent, Minnie Mouse, and Professor Snape began joining, the doorbell of my Zoom waiting room going off one person after another, my phone started DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-13

“A Hope That Moves Us”  147 going off for a completely different reason: a mentor texting that they’d just gotten their retrenchment letter, a peer sharing that another mentor had gotten theirs. In a few short minutes, between WhatsApp and our growing Zoom gathering, we established that the worst of our fears had actualized: of the three retrenchments in our large department, all were from our tiny program. It wasn’t just that we’d be losing half of our program faculty, half of our dissertation chairs alone, it was that we were losing mentors, losing friends, losing disciplinary specialists without whom we couldn’t imagine completing our studies and reaching our academic goals. Amidst these realizations, of course, we were still on Zoom in our costumes, and so, to the backdrop of my Halloween Party playlist, we transformed a party into a rally, an organizing meeting, and we resolved to fight for our faculty, our program, our education. Despite the darkness and difficulty of this time, I couldn’t bring myself to stop, to give up in the face of the seeming futility of it all, to let go of the hope that our actions would bring about the change we sought, would save our professors’ jobs and keep them with us at our university. The framework of critical hope (Duncan-Andrade, 2009) became a lifeline for me during that arduous semester. It’s hard to say outright whether my studies of critical hope inspired my action or gave me a vocabulary for the collective action efforts that were already happening, and indeed I think it is both, and not either, in a deeply recursive process. In this meshed and complicated way, I realized that I couldn’t continue to read about critical hope without applying what I was learning to the struggle we students and faculty were engaged in with our university’s administration, and that I couldn’t write about critical hope in any authentic way without writing explicitly about our efforts to rescind our program faculty’s retrenchments. This chapter interweaves critical pedagogical approaches to hope with my own autoethnographic narratives from this period of uncertainty and struggle, in order to offer a critical case study (Dover et al., 2018) of the praxis of critical hope. I argue that critical hope, in this context, plays a crucial role in “prefiguring” (Fuller & Russo, 2016) alternative realities of teaching, learning, and being.

Literature Review: An Overview of Critical Hope To struggle, we need to be able to envision something better and more promising in our future. Hope is one element, while critical pedagogy is another potentially rich method of doing so. (Daniels, 2012, p. 12) “Critical hope” is a concept put forth by Duncan-Andrade (2009), drawing on the work of West (2004, 2008), which involves the holistic workings of three intertwined elements: material, Socratic, and audacious hope (Duncan-Andrade, 2009). Using Shakur’s (1999) metaphor of a

148  Megan E. Heise rose growing through concrete, Duncan-Andrade (2009) describes material hope as the cracks in the concrete through which plants can bloom, Socratic hope as the courage to be the plant that makes its difficult way through these cracks, and audacious hope as the solidarity and collective action to replace the concrete itself with a garden (p. 186). These connected aspects of Duncan-Andrade’s (2009) “critical hope” represent a foil to three false hopes: hokey hope, or uninformed perpetual optimism, mythical hope such as that which might suggest that racism is over in the United States because it had a Black president, and hope deferred wherein folks passively resign themselves to reality, always thinking it will get better in the future in some abstract way. Critical hope, in other words, involves material possibility, courageous action, and collective solidarity. It is an actionable hope that seeks to prefigure the futures it dreams of through work in the present moment. The concept of “critical hope” has been taken up by a number of critical pedagogues and in a wide variety of contexts. Webb’s (2013) treatment of critical hope evokes Bloch (1995) and Giroux (2001) as foundational scholars who consider hope “as a restless, future-oriented longing for that which is missing” (Webb, 2013, p. 403). For Webb (2013), “Wriggling restlessly, lying awake and refusing to sit still are … some of the defining characteristics of critical hope” (p. 402). Bozalek et al. (2014) acknowledge the foundations of critical hope in the critical theory work undertaken by the Frankfurt School, neo-Marxists, and Freire, framing critical hope “not only as a crucial conceptual and theoretical direction, but also as an action-oriented response to contemporary despair” (p. 1). For Bozalek et al. (2014), critical hope is also “central to many forms of resisting injustice and to collective organizing against injustice” (p. 1). This sense of critical hope as involving action, as Bozalek et al. (2014) reflect, is deeply yoked to the work of Freire (2014), wherein he writes the oft-quoted line, “Hope is an ontological need” (p. 10). Freire (2014) makes explicit the relationship between critical hope and action, explaining, “hope, as an ontological need, demands an anchoring in practice. As an ontological need, hope needs practice in order to become historical concreteness” (p. 11). Freire (2014) further iterates the reciprocal relationship between hope and action, writing that “my hope is necessary, but it is not enough. Alone it does not win. But without it, my struggle will be weak and wobbly. We need critical hope the way a fish needs unpolluted water” (p. 10). For Hytten (2009), this intertwining of action and hope is explicit as well, explaining that the pair “fuel and sustain each other” and that “critical hope entails persistence, resourcefulness, generosity, determination, responsibility, discipline, compassion, courage, patience, accountability, humility, collaboration, attentiveness, and flexibility” (Hytten, 2009, p. 161). It is exactly with this sense of critical hope as

“A Hope That Moves Us”  149 hope-in-action and action-in-hope that I frame my autoethnographic narratives of struggle and action through critical hope in a time of despair.

Methodology: Autoethnography We all need a community in which we can tell our “real” stories, one where we do not have to connect every dot, where we don’t have to have all the answers, and where we will be held accountable. (Dover et al. 2018, p. 236) I draw upon an autoethnographic framework, and in particular one of a critical case study (Dover et al., 2018), to critically reflect upon and share my experiences deploying critical hope in a very particular fight against faculty retrenchments at a mid-size mid-Atlantic university. I align with Wall (2006), who frames autoethnography as a postmodern gesture that pushes back against what constitutes research and emphasizes “the inextricable link between the personal and the cultural … to make room for nontraditional forms of inquiry and expression” (p. 146). In Wall’s (2006) analysis, autoethnography challenges the notion that reflexivity exists in a token, throw-away sentence or paragraph, and instead can be the frame for an entire body of qualitative research. In addition, I see the act of autoethnography as answering Apple’s (2014) call for “a broadening of what counts as ‘research’” (p. xviii). In particular, Apple (2014) elevates the role of “critical ‘secretaries’ to those groups of people and social movements who are now engaged in challenging existing relations of unequal power” (p. xviii). I see the following autoethnographic narratives, as both process and product (Zilonka et al., 2019), as taking up this call and serving as a scribe, an archivist, a bard for our cause, our particular struggle against injustice. I have worn many hats and played many roles in our fight to rescind our faculty’s retrenchments and save our program, and now I seek to wear one more as I share our story beyond the confines of our internal WhatsApp chats and Zoom rooms. This work is, necessarily, embodied. My experience advocating for myself, my program, and my mentors is highly subjective; while we have acted in solidarity with one another, my experiences, perspective, and perceptions are mine alone. I engage here with what Pillow (2003) describes as a “reflexivity of discomfort,” a continual process of reflexivity that can act as “a methodological tool interruptive of practices of gathering data as ‘truths,’” a disruptive force within positivist and objectivist imperatives (p. 192). As I will share, looking both back and within this struggle—as it is not quite over, despite some significant progress at the moment of writing—I highlight the embodiments of material, Socratic, and audacious hope that we have experienced in our fight for our faculty.

150  Megan E. Heise

Narrative: Lived Enactments of Critical Hope Material Hope: Radical Mentorship in Neoliberal Higher Education After all, no one walks without learning to walk—without learning to walk by walking, without learning to remake, to retouch, the dream for whose cause the walkers have set off down the road. (Freire, 2014, p. 171) On October 14, 2020, the university in which I was a second-year PhD student announced a radical restructuring plan that included the retrenchment of 25% of the school’s full-time faculty, the merging of multiple colleges, and the phasing out of entire degree programs. Soon after, the faculty union was given unofficial numbers of faculty to be retrenched per department, with the implicit understanding that the decisions regarding which faculty would receive retrenchment letters would be based solely on who had the fewest “years of service” to the university, in accordance with the union’s collective bargaining agreement. Of the 41-faculty English department, which housed four undergraduate majors, six graduate programs, three certificates, and a minor, the three faculty with the fewest years of service to our particular university all fell within my seven-faculty program. These three faculties were all “permanent” faculty, two had tenure, one had recently been promoted, and one had recently won a university award, among so many other accomplishments and accolades between the three, but none of these factors were enough to save them from receiving formal letters of retrenchment on October 30, 2020. While our situation may have been unique in its particulars, it spoke to a broader reality; numerous scholar-teachers have documented the difficulty both of teaching and learning under the constraints of contemporary neoliberalism. For example, Apple (2014) writes critically of the prevalent paradigm that “people who work in educational institutions at all levels—and the students with whom they work—are to be valued only by the contributions to an increasingly unequal economy” (p. xv). At the level of higher education, and in particular in doctoral programs, these problems, while different from those in K-12 contexts, remain pronounced, as evidenced in the retrenchment plan at our university. Dover et al. (2018) lament how, “as social justice-oriented teachers and teacher educators, it can seem as if we are fighting a losing battle against neoliberal education policies designed to disrupt and dismantle our field” (p. 229). This trend, Apple (2014) rightly points out, “devalues and is deeply disrespectful of the critical work that education must perform and just as deeply disrespectful of the labor of love, care, and solidarity that underpins so much of educational activities” (p. xv). Through the lens of critical hope, though, I have come to understand that it is precisely these emotional and embodied labors that have been

“A Hope That Moves Us”  151 so callously disregarded and disrespected by our and other university administrations, that have created the cracks in the concrete through which our unofficial coalition of students, alumni, and faculty found ways to intervene. In other words, we fought so hard for these three professors because of their very embodied and caring mentorship. Apple (2014) suggests that critical scholars/activists have another role to play. They need to act as deeply committed mentors, as people who demonstrate through their lives what it means to be both an excellent researcher and a committed member of a society that is scarred by persistent inequalities. (p. xix, emphasis in original) Our program has long been led by and geared towards engaged teacher– scholars, but the three retrenched faculty, it could be argued, particularly embodied these ways of being and mentoring not only as researchers or instructors, but as humans. In the terrible two-week period between the announcement of retrenchment numbers and the reception of the official letters, I shared this impression with one of my mentors. They had expressed sorrow that the situation was upsetting our education and our learning, knowing that we had scrambled to put together letter and phone campaigns and create a website on which to aggregate these efforts over the course of just a few days. Here they were, worried about us, even while we were fighting for their job. I explained that it wasn’t some accident, or some contractual obligation; we were doing it because each of those three professors had invested in us so wholly, so fully, and so humanly, and in those relationships, and for those relationships, we acted. Kress (2013) describes hope as “a byproduct of the processes and relationships that we engage in as we strive towards our goal of making education and humanity more humane” (p. 4). Our retrenched professors had made our education, our lives, more humane, and thus our response to their retrenchment was mirrored back humanly and humanely to them. They themselves made the cracks in the concrete, the openings for humanity and humaneness, through which we students and alumni sprang into action. Zembylas (2014) notes that “examining and encouraging affective relationality opens creative spaces for feeling the world differently and envisioning and enacting alternative affective communities” (p. 15). Our student–professor relational economies were, we came to realize, this very sort of “alternative.” When I opened this chapter, I wrote that I didn’t think I would be branded a “radical” for wanting to keep my dissertation committee. And yet, it feels that I was. Our constant sit-ins, letters, phone calls, and mailed petitions grated on the administration such that they asked our Dean to email us to calm down and be quiet. I didn’t think it would be so radical

152  Megan E. Heise to care about people, to care about my teachers and mentors and advisors, but the ways in which we manifested our care—in advocating so vocally for and with them—created annoyances and inconveniences for our President and Provost. Of course, we did not accept this, we could not. After consulting with our professors—who all advocated for us as students and spoke out against this attempted silencing—we moved forward with our continued pressure on the administration. I can see now, looking back, that it was perhaps a naive stance to think that such counterhegemonic relationships wouldn’t be seen as radical or subversive by those wielding power. Having lived through this experience and having studied critical hope so closely as I have, I see clearly now how student–teacher relationships, and especially those that seek to build upon one another’s shared humanity, are a crucial aspect of critically hopeful pedagogical praxis. Ayers (2006) completes their work on hope in teaching with a list of desires for themself and the teachers-intraining they work with; I find myself aligning with these as I reflect on my evolving relationships with my mentors, who would likely join with me as I attempt to shout from the rooftops: I want beginning teachers to figure out what they are working for and what they are working against. I want to work against oppression and subjugation, for example, and against exploitation, unfairness, and unkindness, and I want others to join me in that commitment. I want to work toward freedom, for enlightenment and awareness, wide awakeness, protection of the weak, cooperation, generosity, compassion, and love. I want my work to mean something worthwhile in the lives of my students, my friends, my collaborators, and in the larger worlds that they will inhabit and create. (pp. 274–275) Socratic Hope: Emotions and Embodiment in Critical Hope Courage is not being hard. (Simpson, 2013) If the relationality between us students and our mentors created the cracks in the concrete in the first place, we still needed the courage to break through these cracks. In this too, we took guidance from our professors. In a research note I left for myself while reading for what would become this chapter, I wrote, “maybe I am reflecting too on how these teachers taught me to have critical hope, how they embodied it” (personal notes, November 22, 2020). Those days—the entire month of November 2020, to be honest—were tough, fraught, exhausting. I perceived myself to be all over the place in my research, and was embarrassed with how intensely emotional everything felt at the time. I hadn’t

“A Hope That Moves Us”  153 been able to read for a month because of the stress of the situation, and when I finally jumped back in over our week-long November break, I had little patience for my emotionality. Each idea I mentioned in my research notes was almost always followed by at least one “idk,” as if to hedge, to express the depth of my confusion and doubts. “Is this an academic, auto-ethnography piece? Or is this a sentimental thing?” I asked myself, as if in accusation (personal notes, November 21, 2020). “Or is that a radical feminist gesture, to be like so personal and emotional,” I followed, accompanied, of course, by an “idk” (personal notes, November 21, 2020). When I encountered Zembylas’ (2014) work on “critical emotional praxis,” I found my “idk’s” melting away as I found a vocabulary for what I had been experiencing, even going so far as to label those notes as “justification for my emotionally wrought-edness” (personal notes, November 22, 2020). For Zembylas (2014), emotions are central to critical hope. In fact, Zembylas (2014) explains that “Pedagogies of critical hope are involved in the creative production of affects (e.g., compassion, kindness, solidarity) that provoke educators and students to participate in community struggles, which refuse to accept oppression, suffering, and exploitation” (p. 15). The loss of our professors’ jobs and impending collapse of our doctoral program certainly was a community struggle, and one that evoked strong affects as we grappled with the human realities of kinship, disappointment, and despair. I believe now that acknowledging the role of emotions—and particularly embodied emotional experience—is crucial in the practice of critical hope. In Zembylas’ (2014) view, “emotions play a powerful role in either sustaining or disrupting hegemonic discourses about one’s self, others, belonging and knowledge/truth” (p. 21). The more I continued to learn about the paradigm of critical hope, the more I understood my emotional experiences. Reynolds (2013) explains, poetically, “the stubborn persistence of hope operates within a context of radical love” (p.  34). I’ve felt this radical love in relationship with my mentors all through this process, from the early whisperings around “retrenchments,” to the texts the day they were made official, to the writing of the chapter where things were hopeful yet unresolved. Critical hope, Boler (2014) notes, “entails a responsibility—a willingness to be fully alive in the process of constant change and becoming” (p. 36). I accepted this responsibility, without much pause for thought, but certainly with great emotional commitment, as I radically rearranged and sometimes cleared my schedule to focus on our efforts to save our professors’ jobs and our program. I emphasize the emotionality of this experience, in part, to draw attention to what it feels like to be that plant growing through concrete, a plant that has accepted the responsibility to act with courage and resolve. Indeed, Zournazi (2014) suggests that “‘critical hope’ is based on this kind of responsibility and gratitude in living encounters” (p. 159). I contend

154  Megan E. Heise that it was this particular sense of intertwined and embodied gratitude and responsibility that created the cracks in the infrastructure through which we worked, and that it took a likewise emotional, and embodied courage, to accept and act upon this responsibility. In my reading notes from October 1, 2020, before the retrenchments were announced, I evoked Freire (2000a), writing: “though I know that things can get worse, I also know that I am able to intervene to improve them” (p. 53). In other words, if we don’t have hope, we don’t act, and if we don’t act, things get worse and quicker. (personal notes, October 1, 2020) I knew, then, that action is the responsibility of hope, but had not yet processed the emotionality and embodiment of both hope and action. Now I see courage as the crucial choice to channel emotions into embodied action. Bayne (2013), addressing future educators, writes: Dare to be courageous—In the face of inequity, poverty, deficit perspectives, political and social upheaval, develop the strength and tenacity to take a stance—to question, to oppose when it is called for, to seek value in the contrary and to create a sense of solidarity around difference—to stand up for what is just and good—as a practice of freedom. (p. 42) As I look forward to our continuing struggle ahead—and those of the future that I have yet to even imagine—I accept, as I and my fellow students have throughout this process, this dare to be courageous, to question, and to stand up for justice. Audacious Hope: Relationships and Collective Action All we need is hope, and for that we have each other. (Day, 2015) Critical hope anchored me to continue in our fight for all three professors’ retrenchments to be rescinded, and affirmed the affective, emotional, and embodied experiences I was having as I attended protests, wrote letters, circulated petitions, and otherwise supported my mentors, those who were used to being the ones supporting me. I found myself experiencing an altogether bizarre inversion of power, in which I as a student could speak up and out more freely and boldly than my teachers whose jobs were on the line. Giroux (2007) writes that “critical pedagogy opens up a space where students should be able to come to terms with

“A Hope That Moves Us”  155 their own power as critical agents,” (p. 1) and indeed we did. During the hardest, most intense days and weeks post-retrenchment notices, I thought often of “how my teachers have invested in me and now I invest in them” (personal notes, November 22, 2020). I saw the traditional student–teacher power dynamics flipped, realizing in my positionality as a student a strange privilege. While my teachers had to be very careful about what they said and where, for fear of retaliation, we students were the consumers in the neoliberal university economy; we had purchasing power. McClure (2013) calls for teachers to foster “relationships with our students that subvert the traditional teacher/student hierarchy,” explaining that “recognizing our students as teachers and ourselves as learners helps create conditions for a learning community that can collaboratively name the world in order to change it” (pp. 21–22). With these “subverted” relationships already well established by these mentors in their embodiments of critical praxis, it makes sense to me now that we would not only act but take advantage of our newfound privilege to do so as a collective force. Even during the global COVID-19 pandemic, our program’s students, dissertators, and alumni stayed closely connected through email and social media. That we were already spread out around the world, already missing each other, already starting to realize the aspects of our in-person education that we’d taken for granted, only helped us be better poised to come together across digital spaces in collective action with our impacted professors. For my part, when I learned about the retrenchments, I felt initially helpless, followed very swiftly by a burning anger at the injustice, an ire that galvanized me to act and to do so with a sense of expediency and focus. In this desperate fervor to figure out how to make an impact, I held in my head and heart a reading I had just done for a class taught by one of my retrenched mentors. In my reading response from that day, I wrote: One thing I really took away from this article was the idea that responses to harm ought to be collective in their approaches to support, intervention, accountability, and prevention/transformation (Fuller & Russo 2016). Specifically, I’m thinking about critical pedagogy and these lines of hope, discontent, and counterhegemonic thought and action, and how these threads can all be so much stronger when braided together in others’ actions as well. In other words, Fuller & Russo (2016) suggest moving away from a paradigm of “what can I do for…” and towards, “what can we do with…” (p. 187). I think, from a personal perspective, that oftentimes when I lose hope it’s because I’m trying to act alone, and feel I must act alone, or that if I don’t act individualistically then I’m not doing enough. But Fuller & Russo (2016) suggest that our attempts to make change are so much more powerful when done in community with others, and I think

156  Megan E. Heise this is true. So now I’m thinking about how I can be hopefully discontented—or discontentedly hopeful—in community, with others. (personal notes, October 16, 2020) I did not know then what was coming, what would be announced later that very day, but I was already primed to address whatever challenges were to come with an attitude of critical hope. Zournazi (2014) writes that Hope resides in ethical relations that are the co-extension of action, that is, in the recognition of our common and shared experiences as well as our differences. It is a simultaneous longing and belonging together, a different sense of wish fulfillment—a different sense of community and communion. (p. 159) As I’ve reflected on the retrenchment process, this sentiment has stayed with me in considering collective action as “a simultaneous longing and belonging together” (Zournazi, 2014, p. 159). We students came together as soon as we heard about the possibility of retrenchments to put together call scripts, write email templates, source phone numbers and email addresses, and express our solidarity with our teachers. One peer liaised with the faculty union, another connected with students from other programs, and many, many more wrote letters, sent emails, made phone calls, and signed and shared petitions. One student from our program decided to stage a silent protest outside our university President’s office one day, and one day turned into two weeks, with an organized spreadsheet on which students from any program could sign up for shifts to ensure that peaceful protestors were present during opening hours, every day. Our Change.org petition reached nearly 2,000 signatures, including supportive comments from leaders in our field, representing competing universities but standing in solidarity with us. My own desire to share some small tokens of appreciation with our retrenched professors, when shared with the group, morphed into collaborative cards and an in-person shower of gifts, appreciation, and support. Our professors noted that they felt a renewed sense of hope after our socially distanced gathering. So did I. Zembylas (2014) explains that “solidarity is an important aspect of a critical vision of hope,” and that the courage to pursue this ambivalent path and the solidarity to collectively struggle to change terms of community building in order to establish new forms of connectedness—on the basis of common vulnerability—are essential components of pedagogies of critical hope. (p. 15)

“A Hope That Moves Us”  157 Because our teachers embodied critical pedagogy in their ways of mentoring us and fostering courageously vulnerable bonds in and beyond the classroom, the solidarity we experienced in this situation felt natural, inevitable even. As I see it, the connections our mentors fostered with us before this situation both led to, and were strengthened by, the solidarity and collective action we all embodied in our advocacy efforts. In retrospect, I am grateful for the foundation these professors laid in my professional and personal development, that I could so naturally follow the advice McClure (2013) gives: “We must feel that we are in partnership in this endeavor; our critical work cannot be sustained if we feel isolated; and 2. Despite the persistence of ‘Dark Times,’ we must remain hopeful for more positive futures” (p. 21). While our situation is still unresolved at the moment of writing, I do remain hopeful, knowing that I hope and I act in a community of fiercely dedicated, whole, and complicated human beings.

Moving Forward: Prefiguring Transformations in Graduate Education Hope is an investment that the “lines” we follow will get us somewhere. (Ahmed, 2006, p. 18) Critical hope, in my understanding, represents action alongside imagination; in other words, it contains utopic dreams, but also the action to “prefigure” these dreamt-of futures (Fuller & Russo, 2016). I draw here from Webb (2013), stating that “a hope is not a desire plus a probability estimate grounded in a survey of the evidence, but rather a utopia plus a sense of possibility grounded in a confidence in the powers of human agency” (p. 409). Halpin’s (2003) foundational work on actionable hope likewise explains that hope has a creative role in encouraging the development of imaginative solutions to seemingly intractable difficulties. Specifically, it can visualize a state of affairs not yet existing and, more than this, can both anticipate as well as prepare the ground for something new. (p. 16) This vision of hope draws to mind Freire’s (2004) conception of “prophetic thought,” which “implies denouncing how we are living and announcing how we could live” (p. 105). I argue that the struggle of my program’s students, faculty, and alumni embodied these conceptions of critical hope, as we strove for a transformed future. While our goals have been specifically the rescinding of all three letters of retrenchment, we also, in many ways which I hope will be articulated and expounded upon in the near future, worked with the hope that our struggle, our sorrow, would not happen elsewhere. We have a long way to go in transforming

158  Megan E. Heise higher education to value forms of labor that don’t correlate with financial gain for the university, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t act. As Zournazi (2014) relates: Critical hope is about the potential to work effectively within the constraints and possibilities of power. It involves creating new social imaginaries based on the contingency of experience just as the need for common action. In many respects, critical hope is a movement toward the future that arises from the material conditions of the present; our everyday practices, our calling to responsibility and justice, our common sense. (p. 163) In our hope, we move toward this future, not with naivete, but with conviction and courage. Importantly, even if I knew the final outcome of our battle against retrenchment right now, I would not be able to conclude in any sort of neat fashion. Instead, as a closing gesture, I wish to share one final reading response, my last of the semester, submitted in the midst of our struggle: I resisted the very idea of “hope” for a long time, felt that the “hope” people were a little too neoliberal, a little too toxically positive, a little too bypassing of reality. But over the years, my perspective has changed.… I believe in hope now. Not from a standpoint of blind faith, which I am still quite resistant to, but hope the way Freire (2000b) wrote about it, especially this passage from Pedagogy of the Oppressed: “Hope, however, does not consist in crossing one’s arms and waiting. As long as I fight, I am moved by hope; and if I fight with hope, then I can wait” (p. 92). Hope as action. I’ve been writing about critical pedagogy and hope for the past month, and the events of the last few weeks have made me realize how invested I am in the lines I follow, how reliant on community I am, how much confusion and darkness and pain can still be conditions in which hope is necessary; hope, the darkness of the womb. Actionable hope, critical hope. Hope that prefigures a better world. I am fighting for that better world, fighting with hope, alongside my community. I don’t wait. In my hope, I act. (personal notes, November 1, 2020)

References Ahmed, S. (2006). Queer phenomenology: Orientations, objects, others. Duke University Press. Apple, M. W. (2014). Foreword. In V. Bozalek, B. Leibowitz, R. Carolissen, & M. Boler (Eds.), Discerning critical hope in educational practices (pp. xii–xxii). Routledge.

“A Hope That Moves Us”  159 Ayers, W. (2006). The hope and practice of teaching. Journal of Teacher Education, 57(3), 269–277. Bayne, G. U. (2013). Letters of hope: The Wangari way. In T. M. Kress & R. Lake (Eds.), We saved the best for you: Letters of hope, imagination and wisdom for 21st century educators (pp. 41–44). Sense Publishers. Bloch, E. (1995). The principle of hope. MIT Press. Boler, M. (2014). Teaching for hope: The ethics of shattering worldviews. In V. Bozalek, B. Leibowitz, R. Carolissen, & M. Boler (Eds.), Discerning critical hope in educational practices (pp. 26–39). Routledge. Bozalek, V., Leibowitz, B., Carolissen, R., & Boler, M. (Eds.). (2014). Discerning critical hope in educational practices. Routledge. Daniels, E. A. (2012). Fighting, loving, teaching: An exploration of hope, armed love and critical urban pedagogies. Sense Publishers. Day, A. (2015). Rise up [Song]. On Cheers to the fall [Album]. Warner Bros. Records and Buskin Records. Dover, A. G., Henning, N., Agarwal-Rangnath, R., & Dotson, E. K. (2018). It’s heart work: Critical case studies, critical professional development, and fostering hope among social justice–oriented teacher educators. Multicultural Perspectives, 20(4), 229–239. Duncan-Andrade, J. M. R. (2009). Note to educators: Hope required when growing roses in concrete. Harvard Educational Review, 79(2), 181–194. Freire, P. (2000a). Pedagogy of freedom: Ethics, democracy, and civic courage. Rowman & Littlefield Publishers. Freire, P. (2000b). Pedagogy of the oppressed (30th Anniversary). Bloomsbury Academic. Freire, P. (2004). Pedagogy of indignation. Paradigm Publishers. Freire, P. (2014). Pedagogy of hope: Reliving pedagogy of the oppressed. Bloomsbury. Fuller, L., & Russo, A. (2016). Feminist pedagogy: Building community accountability. In Feminist Teacher, 26(2–3), 179–197). https://doi.org/10.5406/ femteacher.26.2-3.0179 Giroux, H. (2001). ‘Something’s missing’: Cultural studies, neoliberalism, and the politics of educated hope. Strategies, 14(2), 227–252. Giroux, H. (2007). Introduction: Democracy, education and the politics of critical pedagogy. In P. McLaren & J. Kincheloe (Eds.), Critical pedagogy: Where are we now? (pp. 1–5). Peter Lang. Halpin, D. (2003). Hope and education: The role of the utopian imagination. Routledge Falmer. Hytten, K. (2009). Cultivating hope and building community: Reflections on social justice activism in Educational Studies. Educational Studies, 46, 151–167. Kress, T. M. (2013). Tilting at windmills: Hope as an ontological need when tilting the machine. In T. M. Kress & R. Lake (Eds.), We saved the best for you: Letters of hope, imagination and wisdom for 21st century educators (pp. 3–5). Sense Publishers. McClure, G. (2013). Finding hope and giving thanks in “dark times”: Paying dues to the students who teach us. In T. M. Kress & R. Lake (Eds.), We saved the best for you: Letters of hope, imagination and wisdom for 21st century educators (pp. 21–24). Sense Publishers. Pillow, W. (2003). Confession, catharsis, or cure? Rethinking the uses of reflexivity as methodological power in qualitative research. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education: QSE, 16(2), 175–196.

160  Megan E. Heise Reynolds, W. M. (2013). The stubborn persistence of hope. In T. M. Kress & R. Lake (Eds.), We saved the best for you: Letters of hope, imagination and wisdom for 21st century educators (pp. 33–36). Sense Publishers. Shakur, T. (1999). The rose that grew from concrete. Pocket Books. Simpson, I. A. (2013). Break the shell [Song]. On Songversation [Album]. Soulbird Music and Motown Records. Solnit, R. (2016). Hope in the dark: Untold histories, wild possibilities. Canons edition. Canongate. Wall, S. (2006). An autoethnography on learning about autoethnography. International Journal of Qualitative Methods, 5(2), 146–160. Webb, D. (2013). Pedagogies of hope. Studies in Philosophy and Education, 32(4), 397–414. West, C. (2004). The impossible will take a little while. In P. Rogat (Ed.), The impossible will take a little while: A citizen’s guide to hope in a time of fear (pp. 293–297). Basic Books. West, C. (2008). Hope on a tightrope. Smiley Books. Zembylas, M. (2014). Affective, political and ethical sensibilities in pedagogies of critical hope: Exploring the notion of ‘critical emotional praxis’. In V. Bozalek, B. Leibowitz, R. Carolissen, & M. Boler (Eds.), Discerning critical hope in educational practices (pp. 11–25). Routledge. Zilonka, R., Cai, X. S., Medina, N. E. C., & Chung, G. Y. (2019). “Where are we from?”: A critical community autoethnography of place, space, and belonging by PhD international female student-scholar-activists in the U.S. International Journal of Critical Pedagogy, 10(1), 31–50. Zournazi, M. (2014). Afterword: Critical hopes – Gratitude and the magic of encounter. In V. Bozalek, B. Leibowitz, R. Carolissen, & M. Boler (Eds.), Discerning critical hope in educational practices (pp. 157–163). Routledge.

13 Bringing to a Collage Alan Chan, Jonelle Dongilla, Christopher Doxtator, Mariah Fairley, Marwa Mehio, and Parawati Siti Sondari

Learning Outcomes Students will be able to: • •

investigate and explore the characteristics of arts-based inquiry enact co-creating space through arts-based inquiry

Rationale This activity brings together arts-based inquiry and critical pedagogy, which follows the concept of contextualizing critical pedagogy: continuously and reflexively co-creating and revising spaces (holistic constructs that include geography, history, and society [Canagarajah, 2018]) with students to situate and understand their educational and social needs within multilayered contexts of power relations to actively learn in ways that suit their needs. Instructors may utilize this self-reflexive activity to assist in the development of a more democratic classroom space. This activity, as with all activities, can be modified to meet various learning outcomes and learner needs.

Selected Pre-Activity Readings Canagarajah, S. (2018). Translingual practice as spatial repertoires: Expanding the paradigm beyond structuralist orientations. Applied Linguistics, 39(1), 31–54. Chappell, S. V., & Chappell, D. (2016). Building social inclusion through critical arts-based pedagogies in university classroom communities. International Journal of Inclusive Education, 20(3), 292–308. DOI: 10.1080/13603116.2015.1047658 Eisner, E. (2008). Art and knowledge. In J. G. Knowles & A. L. Cole (Eds.), Handbook of the arts in qualitative research (pp. 3–12). Sage. Ewing, R., & Hughes, J. (2008). Arts-informed inquiry in teacher education: Contesting the myths. European Educational Research Journal, 7(4), 512–522. McDermott, M. (2002). Collaging pre-service teacher identity. Teacher Education Quarterly, 29(4), 53–68.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-14

162  Alan Chan et al.

Activity 1 For ten minutes, individually freewrite to define “co-creating space” and produce five keywords. 2 Research to find or make any artifact (image, poem, song, etc.) using the five key words, while not using the words “co-creating space.” 3 Combine your artifacts into one collage or a multimodal project and use that to create a broader definition or set of definitions of “cocreation of spaces,” including where they intersect and where they diverge. 4 Share the collage and explain what it means with the class.

Post-Activity Reflections Spend about 5–7 minutes freewriting about your experience with the activity. What has worked for you and your group? What could be modified for future use?

14 Theater of the Oppressed Megan E. Heise and Mahmoud Othman

Learning Outcomes Students will be able to: • cultivate tools to enhance, empower, and dynamize oneself and other groups • develop a liberated, transformational approach to being in this world • increase their awareness of the larger institutional, historical, and social contexts of oppression and marginalization • increase their capabilities to create a deep, informed, intelligent, sustained commitment to challenging and transforming oppressive relations of power everywhere • understand, name, and analyze social injustice around them and to act against such injustice

Rationale One of the overlapping themes in our three selected reading passages (Bajaj, 2015; Kubota, 2015; Rudolph et al., 2018) is to enable marginalized students to have a voice and to give them access to a good education. Believing that one of the best ways of teaching is to have a dialogue with students in which both students and teachers can learn from each other (Freire, 2001), we focus on theater of the Oppressed because it enables students to have opportunities to share, reflect, and imagine possibilities; and have their oral, written, and artistic voices heard (National Middle School Association [NMSA], 2010). There are many forms of the theater of the oppressed, such as image theater where participants engage in silent games as they make sculptures that express their ideas and experiences. The second kind is called forum theater, in which a short scene is played by the participants (protagonist and the antagonist). At any time, a spectator (spect-actor) can “freeze” the scene, replace the protagonist, and resolve the problem. There is no traditional “audience” that DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-15

164  Megan E. Heise and Mahmoud Othman merely passively observes. According to Boal (1998), “Forum Theatre is a reflection on reality and a rehearsal for future action. In the present, we relive the past to create the future” (p. 9). In addition, the theater of the oppressed is implemented as a technique to address the social injustices that marginalized people face worldwide. A well-known model is located in London and is called Cardboard Citizens. This organization tends to help homeless in the UK by hosting them to act out their problems as “forum theater” while spect-actors are asked to take part in the play to replace actors. By the end of the plays, Cardboard facilitators run discussions among homeless participants to reach a solution to their problems.

Selected Pre-Activity Readings Boal, A. (1998). Legislative theatre: Using performance to make politics. Routledge. Ivey, Shannon, & STATE of Reality (2015, March 12). Forum theatre performance [Video]. TEDxColumbiaSC. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vcLcXeXJVDU.

Activity 1 For homework, students will watch the Ivey and STATE of Reality (2015) video, “Forum theatre performance,” at https://www.youtube. com/watch?v=vcLcXeXJVDU. 2 Begin class with the warm-up improv activity: “adding a sound” (15 minutes). This activity is a warm-up activity to enhance students’ tactile movements and a deliberate use of sound to build trust between students. a First, divide the class in groups of two. Let one person be X and the other person be Y. b Each pair will say the numbers from 1 to 3. For instance, person X says 1, Y says 2, X says 3 and the cycle continues when each one says the number one time. c Ask each pair to replace 1 with a sound or a movement and to keep the cycle moving. For instance, person X will say a sound or do a movement for 1, Y will say 2, X will say 3, etc. d Ask them to replace 2 with a sound or a movement as they did with number 1, but they have to be different and keep the cycle going. e Ask them to replace 3 with a sound or a movement and keep the cycle going. Hence, all numbers were replaced by either a sound or a movement. Keep the cycle going for three more minutes. f Ask students to talk within their groups about the activity; what they felt while they were doing it? When was it easy? When did it get difficult? How did adding the sound or movement make it different? And what difference did it make? g Finally, bring the class back together and ask some students to share their reflections about the activity.

Theater of the Oppressed  165 3 Next, as a full class, discuss the video watched for homework, focusing on the class-wide theme and anti-model of linguistic racism, and clarify that the spect-actors are the entire class. Ask students what they understood from the video and the difference between Forum theater and regular theater. Key things to draw out are: a the local nature of the problem or oppression b short length of the play c presence and role of the Joker (facilitator) to provoke and engage the audience d breaking the fourth wall and inviting the audience to change the play so that they transform into spect-actors 4 Divide the class into 3–4 groups, with about 4–6 members in each group (or more or less, depending on your class size). a First, ask each group to brainstorm one idea or theme for a short forum theater performance. Explain that the ideas should be about a situation in which they experienced oppression or injustice. If students struggle with this brainstorm, the teacher can suggest some topics, like linguistic justice, racism, and marginalized citizens. Importantly, students can only choose a topic that at least one of them has experienced or witnessed because theatre of the oppressed is all about reflection. b Ask each group to write a description of the scene on paper. Once they are done, each group will stick their paper to the wall. All students will walk around the classroom to read each scene and will stand next to the description that they most want to see acted out. The two scenarios with the most “votes” will be chosen for further development. i Based on the class size, classroom dynamics, and teaching philosophies, this step can be adapted or removed. For example, in a small class with only 2–3 groups, all scenarios could be acted out. Whereas, in a large class with a short meeting time, perhaps only one is selected due to time constraints. 5 Next, the plays will be produced. For short classes, this is a good place to start on a second class day. Longer classes can continue through the course period with this step. a Ask students to make a big circle around the classroom and ask for two volunteers to play the jokers of the two scenes. Ask the two jokers to discuss together how they would like to facilitate each play. Point out that the role of the facilitator is to introduce themselves to the audience, introduce each team before their performance and depart from the stage until after the

166  Megan E. Heise and Mahmoud Othman performance, when they will re-enter the stage and ask the audience for their reactions, keep encouraging the spect-actors to stop the play and come to the stage, encourage dialogue in the audience members, and move on to the next performance. b Divide the rest of the class into two groups; each group should work and plan their short play (teachers can give the same time they gave to the jokers to prepare how they will facilitate) approximately 15 minutes. Encourage students to come and ask for any clarifications while they are working. c When students finish their roles, ask them to sit in a big circle. Ask the first joker to present the first play and the group that will act it out. The first group will present their short performance. Afterward, the Joker illustrates the oppression and encourages spect-actors to take part by shouting, STOP or FREEZE and then joining in the play by replacing the protagonist and trying to act against the oppression that the protagonist suffers from. After each spect-actor intervention, the Joker will ask others to say what the spect-actor did differently in relation to the oppression. Then, more spect-actors will be invited to intervene. d Repeat this process with the second group’s forum theater scene. 6 When the two scenes are played out and the Jokers have finished their discussion with the rest of the group about the difference between the scenes after and before spect-actors’ participation, bring the entire class back together for a group discussion. If students need some prompts to think about, teachers can bring up the power dynamics in each scenario and complicate the oppressor/oppressed dichotomy, while also allowing space for students’ organic reflections.

Post-Activity Reflections Spend about 5–7 minutes freewriting about your experience with the activity. What has worked for you and your group? What could be modified for future use?

References Bajaj, M. (2015). ‘Pedagogies of resistance’ and critical peace education praxis. Journal of Peace Education, 12(2), 154–166. Boal, A. (1998). Legislative theatre: Using performance to make politics. Routledge. Freire, P. (2001). Pedagogy of the oppressed. Continuum. Ivey, Shannon, & STATE of Reality (2015, March 12). Forum theatre performance [Video]. TEDxColumbiaSC. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v= vcLcXeXJVDU

Theater of the Oppressed  167 Kubota, R. (2015). Questioning language myths in English language teaching: Toward border-crossing communication. Twenty-Fourth International Symposium on English Teaching, 44–57. National Middle School Association (NMSA). (2010). This we believe: Keys to educating young adolescents. (4th ed.). Rudolph, N., Yazan, B., & Rudolph, J. (2018). Negotiating ‘ares,’ ‘cans,’ and ‘shoulds’ of being and becoming in English language teaching: Two teacher accounts from one Japanese university. Asian Englishes, 21, 1–16.

15 Linguistic Instrumentalism James Dunn, Islam M. Farag, and Marcela Hebbard

Learning Outcomes Students will arrive at their own definition of linguistic instrumentalism and reflect on how this notion can be implemented in the classroom. Students will be able to: 1 define what linguistic instrumentalism is in the context of language education 2 reflect on using English instrumentalism in their classrooms and discuss how this affects their teaching philosophy

Rationale Kubota (2011) defines linguistic instrumentalism as the notion that “underscores the usefulness of language skills in achieving utilitarian goals such as economic development and social mobility” (p. 1). For example, people around the world learn English expecting to achieve economic stability and social mobility. As a result, testing becomes a means in itself as a mechanism for evidence of English proficiency. This view is fueled by and perpetuates native speakerism norms.

Selected Pre-Activity Readings Kubota, R. (2011). Questioning linguistic instrumentalism: English, neoliberalism, and language tests in Japan. Linguistics and Education, 22, 248–260.

Activity Please choose one of the two options and follow the instructions. 1 If you are a teacher of multilingual students, write a paragraph where you reflect on your past experiences and explain the reasons why you think your multilingual students want to learn English. How DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-16

Linguistic Instrumentalism  169 do you know that? If so, how does learning this invite you to adapt your teaching methods to meet their needs? 2 If you learned an additional language as a linguistic instrument, design an artifact (e.g., poem, short story, postcard, Instagram post, TikTok) that reflects the reasons why you learned the language and whether or not you achieve your desired socio-economic goals.

Post-Activity Reflections Spend about 5–7 minutes freewriting about your experience with the activity. What has worked for you and your group? What could be modified for future use?

16 Reflections on Silence Patricia Miller and Lisa Parzefall

Learning Outcomes At the conclusion of this exercise, students will be able to: • • •

understand how peers (other students or teachers depending on the audience) might feel silenced in ways they do not expect provide the audience with tools and opportunities to promote their voices and “un-silence” them distinguish between “silent by choice” and “silent by proxy”

Rationale Kaufmann (2010) discusses the cultural aspects of speech and silence, urging teachers to act as facilitators of all voices in the classroom without de-centering non-dominant voices and centering dominant ones. Allowing dominant voices to “dominate” class discussions only reinforces the hegemonic power structure which critical pedagogy aims to deconstruct. However, as critical pedagogues, instructors must also be aware of cultural differences in students which often contributes to their understanding of “silence”; while some students might perceive silence as the “correct” way of engaging in a teacher-centered classroom (Kim, 2015, p. 78), other students might be used to a more traditional, US-grounded image of classrooms in which students’ opinions should count. Li Li (2004) reminds us that “those in power must listen to silence rather than force others to tell their stories, for forcing others to speak is silencing silence” (as cited in Kaufmann, 2010, p. 461).

Selected Pre-Activity Readings Kaufmann, J.J. (2010). The practice of dialogue in critical pedagogy. Adult Education Quarterly, 60(5), 456–476. Kim, K. (2015). Students’ and teacher’s reflections on project-oriented learning: A critical pedagogy for Korean ELT. English Teaching, 70(3), 73–98.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-17

Reflections on Silence  171 Li Li, H. (2004). Rethinking silence silence. In M. Bohler (Ed.), Democratic Dialogue in Education: Troubling Speech, Disturbing Silence (pp. 69–86). New York: Peter Lang.

Activity 1 Participants assemble in small groups. 2 Participants share personal narratives expressing when they feel/ have felt silenced. Participants are urged to reflect on the areas of their lives which they feel the most silenced. This can relate to their culture, language, gender, race, social class, learning styles, professional environments, family structures, etc. Participants may also share their knowledge about cultures outside of their personal experience where voice is encouraged in ways counter to the western idea of expressiveness; 3 Participants are asked to turn the conversation toward consideration of their students’ positionalities. Participants are asked to consider and share experiences they may have encountered in their classrooms where their students were silenced; what may have contributed to this silence (texts, discussion topics, class dynamics); and what the participants could have done differently that might have changed or improved that experience. Participants are also asked to reflect on the difference between “silent” and “being silenced,” acknowledging there are students for whom silence is a natural/ comfortable state; 4 Participants are given the opportunity to brainstorm verbally or through writing how to un-silence themselves and their students; 5 Participants return to the larger group and share their experiences.

Post-Activity Reflections Spend about 5–7 minutes freewriting about your experience with the activity. What worked for you and your group? What could be modified for future use?

17 Dialogue and Critical Pedagogy Kevin Kudic, Gabriel Levine-Justicia, and Marina Palenyy

Learning Outcomes Students will be able to: • •

reflect on how dialogue can be used as a tool to either reify or challenge existing power structures in society respond to a scenario in which a student feels silenced in the classroom (small group work via a hypothetical situation)

Consideration in how student interactions and dialogue should be managed will be a key component in this module.

Rationale Dialogue has been a key component in the Freirean framework. Dialogic exchange, according to Freire, has a transformative effect on individuals and is an epistemological process that “cannot exist in the absence of a profound love for the world and for people, cannot exist without humility, [and] requires an intense faith in humankind” (pp. 90–91). Dialogue “is the essence of revolutionary action” (Freire, 1970, p. 135, Footnote 10) and the practice, along with praxis, through which the oppressed can transform the world.

Selected Pre-Activity Readings Freire, P. (1970). Pedagogy of the oppressed. Continuum. Hooks, B. (2010). Teaching critical thinking: Practical wisdom. Routledge. Kaufmann, J. (2010). The practice of dialogue in critical pedagogy. Adult Education Quarterly, 60(5), 456–476.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-18

Dialogue and Critical Pedagogy  173 Activity 1 Read the following hypothetical scenario. After reading, you and your partner will answer the questions related to the scenario. 2 Hypothetical Situation. You are a professor at a liberal arts college gearing up to teach a class on race, language and culture by contemporary writers. Your goal for the class is to have students engage in meaningful constructive dialogue à la Freire. The classroom demographic is diverse ethnically, linguistically, and racially. One of the texts that you plan on teaching is Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates. In a pre-survey of the class, one of the students who self-identifies as African American remarks, “Not sure if I’ll be speaking a lot in this class. The last class I took made me feel powerless because a few students monopolized the conversation and it felt like they were dismissing what other BIPOC had to say.” a Imagine yourself as the teacher in this classroom. How would you address the student that feels they are being silenced? b What steps would you put into place to ensure that dialogue in the classroom is equitable? In other words, how would you ensure that everyone’s voice is being heard? c What are the strengths that you and your partner bring in planning for this kind of classroom? What are aspects that are challenging for you and your partner?

Post-Activity Reflections Spend about 5–7 minutes freewriting about your experience with the activity. What has worked for you and your group? What could be modified for future use?

18 Performative Pedagogy Crystal Conzo, Jeanette Long, and Corinne Alice Nulton

Learning Outcomes Students will be able to: • identify tenets of performative pedagogy • recognize the potential of performative pedagogy in and beyond multilingual classrooms as a means of recognizing and challenging dominant ideologies • engage in issues of social justice that connect students with the communities around them

Rationale Critical performative pedagogy (CPP) is a powerful weapon that can be used to challenge inequity in classrooms with multilingual or marginalized student populations. Giroux and Shannon (1997) argue that “performative practice acknowledges the full range of multiple, shifting, and overlapping sites of learning that, in part, produce, mediate, legitimate, and challenge those forces that are waging an assault on democratic public life in the United States and other parts of the world” (p. 5). Because CPP moves away from white supremacy textualism and values ways of creating knowledge outside of the written word (i.e., physical or artistic), it offers spaces for learners to embody concepts, which in turn can deepen their understanding of power dynamics and societal forces that are impacting their lives. Through storytelling and performance, CPP allows both for an exploration of identities that may typically be hidden and for dialogic opportunities about why these identities are masked. In sum, Harman and McClure (2011) offer, “in effect, the incorporation of performance as an integral part of social justice curricula may deepen analysis of the normative discourses that track and marginalize some groups of students … and privilege others” (p. 381).

DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-19

Performative Pedagogy  175

Selected Pre-Activity Readings Giroux, H., & Shannon, P. (1997). Cultural studies and pedagogy as performative practice: Toward an introduction. In H. Giroux & P. Shannon (Eds.) Education and cultural studies: Toward a performative practice (pp. 1–9). Routledge. Harman, R., & McClure, G. (2011). All the school’s a stage: Critical performative pedagogy in urban education. Equity and Excellence in Education, 44(3), 379–402. https://doi.org/10.1080/10665684.2011.589278.

Activity 1 Students will find a monologue or excerpt from popular media (e.g., television series or film) or literature (e.g., poem, play, novel, or essay) that grapples with an issue of social justice that resonates with them. a Potential pieces of media could include: Fences, The Laramie Project, The Wire, The Vagina Monologues, The Newsroom, How I Learned to Drive, Ruined, and Dear White People. 2 Using PowerPoint, Clips, or iMovie creates a multimedia collage that visually represents your monologue or excerpt as an illustration of your issue of social justice. The collage can be one slide/page or a series of slides/pages. This collage should enhance the monologue or excerpt, your interpretation of the work, and the issue you are exploring. 3 During class, present your monologue or excerpt in front of your peers while projecting your collage in the background. Be sure to consider your performative choices as you read: a How should you position your body? (e.g., standing, sitting, crouching down) b Should you change positions at any point? (e.g., will you begin crouched down and spring up at some point? Will you use hand gestures?) c Where should your voice fluctuate? d When should you pause? e Make the elements of your performance conscious choices that coincide with both your script and collage. 4 After, write a brief reflection of approximately 250–500 words (1–2 pages) on your thought process when selecting the monologue or excerpt and creating the digital collage. Your reflection should include responses to the following questions:

176  Crystal Conzo et al. a Why did you select that particular monologue or excerpt? b How does your collage complement your monologue or excerpt and offer insight into the social issue you selected? c What did it feel like to use your physicality to portray this issue? d How has this task deepened your understanding of performative pedagogy? e What are potential drawbacks and advantages to exploring a social justice issue in this way?

Post-Activity Reflections Spend about 5–7 minutes freewriting about your experience with the activity. What has worked for you and your group? What could be modified for future use?

19 World Englishes and Language Varieties Sarah Bogdan, Ramata Diallo, and Dalia SeifAllah

Learning Outcomes Learners will be able to: • • • • •

understand and define World Englishes differentiate code switching from code meshing apply code meshing in their writing identify different localized language varieties and reflect on how embracing linguistic variation influences their learning raise their global and cross-cultural awareness through collaboration

Rationale World Englishes are local varieties of English developed in Outer and Expanding Circles, which have been marginalized and are not reflected in the ELT pedagogy, curricula, and materials, although they are important to promote inclusivity and diversity. As such, Nuske (2017) argues that exposure to linguistic diversity may help increase acceptance of English language varieties and combat native-centrism. Thus, the purpose of these practical activities is to implement World Englishes or English language varieties in the classroom through code meshing and collaboration. Code meshing is a strategy to merge those varieties of English with Standard English in academic writing, and effective code meshers are those who “have to not only master the dominant varieties of English, but also know how to bring in their preferred varieties in rhetorically strategic ways” (Canagarajah, 2006, p. 598). Collaborative work between students of differing heritage languages, especially work that is mediated by technology (Gitlin & Ingerski, 2018), can help combat native norms by exposing students to diverse language variations. By working with international peers, students will be motivated by their growing connections and desire for mutual meaning-making, rather than just the desire to please their instructor/obtain good grades. Therefore, they may be receptive to learning new language varieties. DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-20

178  Sarah Bogdan et al.

Selected Pre-Activity Readings Canagarajah, A. S. (2006). The Place of World Englishes in Composition: Pluralization Continued. College Composition and Communication, 57(4), 586–619. Gitlin, A. D., & Ingerski, J. (2018). Rewriting Critical Pedagogy for Public Schools: Technological Possibilities. The International Journal of Critical Pedagogy, 9(1), 7–28. Lee, J.W., & Jenks, C.J. (2016). Doing Translingual Dispositions. College Composition and Communication, 68, 317. Nuske, K. (2017). “I Mean I’m Kind of Discriminating My Own People:” A Chinese TESOL Graduate Student’s Shifting Perceptions of China English, TESOL Quarterly, 52(2), 360–390.

Pre-Activity One 1 Watch the short video: David Crystal - World Englishes. 2 Define what World Englishes are. 3 Give two examples of English varieties you know or you have encountered. 4 How did you encounter this variety? What was your initial impression of this variety?

Activity One 1 Watch Jamila Lyiscott’s poem “3 Ways to Speak English.” 2 In pairs, discuss what is code switching and write down a definition. 3 Then, read “Should Writers Use Their Own English?” by Vershawn Ashanti Young (2010). 4 After, write down three instances of code meshing. 5 In a group of four, discuss the differences between code switching and code meshing using this graphic organizer. 6 Finally, create a meme that describes your feelings about those concepts using Google Classroom. 7 Write a story or poem on a topic of your choice using code meshing. Then create a three-minute visual presentation based on your narrative using VirtualDub, MovieMaker, or other video platforms.

Post-Activity One Reflections Spend about 5–7 minutes freewriting about your experience with the activity. What has worked for you and your group? What could be modified for future use?

Pre-Activity Two Students will first have a brief lesson on language variation and will read a text to help them understand the topic, such as “Understanding

World Englishes and Language Varieties  179 Language Variation: Implications of the NNEST Lens for TESOL Teacher Education Programs” by Ahmar Mahboob or “‘I Mean I’m Kind of Discriminating My Own People:’ A Chinese TESOL Graduate Student’s Shifting Perceptions of China English” by Kyle Nuske.

Activity Two 1 Students will sign up for an online learning platform that can connect them to international peers and diverse learning materials. PenPal Schools, for example, is one such online schooling platform; although it is geared toward children in grade school, it connects students from across the globe so that they can learn and collaborate on various topics as pen pals. College students can use similar digital platforms, like Piazza, or programs like COIL (Collaborate Online International Learning) or VIEs (Virtual International Exchanges). (This activity will be similar to the online international project studied by Lee and Jenks, 2016.) 2 After finding their international pen pal, students brainstorm ideas for their suggested research topic: intersection of language and culture. They will use a translator tool if needed or else communicate with their peers in their variety of English. They will discuss their individual cultures and language varieties, then conduct research together to create a presentation on their topic.

Activity Two (part b) 1 Students will complete the same activity but using face-to-face group work. They will be paired in groups with students from diverse backgrounds so they can discuss the intersection of their culture and language variety, create a presentation, and write a short reflection. Their reflection will include thoughts on language variation and implications for teaching.

Post-Activity Two Reflections Students will write a short, low-stakes reflection paper on their experiences working with international peers, communicating in localized varieties of language, and what implications their findings have for teaching.

Post-Activity Reflections Spend about 5–7 minutes freewriting about your experience with the activity. What has worked for you and your group? What could be modified for future use?

20 Glocal Identities and Practices Madeleine Rosa and Tyler Nuñez

Learning Outcomes Students will be able to: •

reflect on their local identities and see how they are influenced by global practices • learn about other communities and perspectives of their fellow classmates and their teacher and embody critical thinking practices about the world that they see every day and sometimes may not fully immerse themselves when thinking critically • create space for open discussion around how local practices can be part of global pedagogical endeavors

Rationale By having preservice teachers and graduate students of TESOL reflect on their global and local (glocal) identities, they are practicing critical reflexivity and critical consciousness of their surroundings. Bartolome (2015) and Kincheloe (2004) both stress the importance of students’ local habitus and their understanding of how global structures influence their surroundings. The discussion will then enhance their understanding of how their peers perceive their immediate surroundings in conjunction with the rest of the world. Instructors may utilize this selfreflexive activity to assist with scaffolded critical thinking activities.

Selected Pre-Activity Readings Bartolome, L. (2015). Preparing to teach newcomer students: The significance of critical pedagogy and the study of ideology in teacher education. National Society for the Study of Education, 109(2), 505–526. Kincheloe, J. (2004). The knowledges of teacher education: Developing a critical complex epistemology. Teacher Education Quarterly, 31(1), 49–60.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-21

Glocal Identities and Practices  181

Activity 1 Read the following excerpt and freewrite about the ways in which global practices have affected your local community and your reaction to these changes: a “An educator who thus accepts the existing social order will likely perceive – and possibly treat – non-elite newcomer students, such as low-SES immigrants, refugees, and other linguistic minorities, as being at the bottom of the hierarchy of social status and power.” (Bartolome, 2015, p. 509) 2 For example: In my community (Indiana, PA), a number of local, small businesses have closed down over the years, with COVID-19 being a recent factor. But what did this say about my community before COVID? Did the push toward automation and online shopping harshly affect the businesses in my area? 3 Reflect on your own local communities. What sort of events has changed your communities, for better or worse? 4 Have students freewrite for 5–10 minutes, then open up a discussion with the class about the writing that they did. If no one volunteers, the teacher may introduce their ideas first to encourage discussion.

Post-Activity Reflections Spend about 5–7 minutes freewriting about your experience with the activity. What has worked for you and your group? What could be modified for future use?

21 Identity in Learning Communities Forster Kudjo Agama, Kevin Lamkins, Bernadette M. López-Fitzsimmons, Joseph Mark Navarro, and Trisha Kelly Travers

Learning Outcome Students will be able to: •

co-create a statement that helps to establish an inclusive, supportive, and inviting community of learners

Rationale Identity is a concept that accounts for the many complex and intersecting dimensions of a person’s being (race, gender, nationality, age, linguistic background, cultural values, religious beliefs, etc.) that influences the ways in which people view the world and understand, act, and interact with others within particular contexts (e.g., in a classroom setting). This activity requires that we understand both student and teacher identities. Teacher identity refers to a need for educators in teacher education and leadership programs to incorporate the sociocultural and political dimensions of identity into their practices. Reflecting on professional and personal aspects of identity can help preservice teachers and leaders understand who they are and how their self-concepts impact their practices. Teacher identity means developing a professional identity; it is not just a matter of examining “who am I as a teacher,” but additionally “who am I as a teacher of diverse learners.” Student identity is an awareness of their self-concept and cultural identity, which provide the foundation for how students define themselves in terms of how others view them. Thus, teachers need to view students as cultural beings, embrace student diversity, and validate the cultural identity of students. In doing so, classrooms that model tolerance and appreciation of students’ differences will be created.

Selected Pre-Activity Readings Austin, P., Cardwell, E., Kennedy, C., & Spencer, R. (2016). Introduction: Teaching black lives matter. Radical Teacher, 106(3), 13–17. https://doi. org/10.5195/rt.2016.340

DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-22

Identity in Learning Communities  183 Park, G. (2017). Narratives of East Asian Women Teachers of English: Where Privilege and Marginalization Coexist. Multilingual Matters. Rudolph, N., Yazan, B., & Rudolph, J. (2019). Negotiating “ares,” “cans,” and “shoulds” of being and becoming in English language teaching: two teacher accounts from one Japanese university. Asian Englishes, 21(1), 22–37. https:// doi.org/10.1080/13488678.2018.1471639

Examples of Diversity and Inclusion Syllabus Statements Brown University. (2022). Diversity & Inclusion Syllabus Statements. The Harriet W. Sheridan Center for Teaching and Learning. https://www. brown.edu/sheridan/teaching-learning-resources/inclusive-teaching/ statements Clemson University. (2019). Diversity and Inclusion Syllabus. Office of Teaching Effectiveness and Innovation. https://www.clemson.edu/otei/ d o c u m e n t s / Te a c h i n g % 2 0 R e v i e w % 2 0 R e s o u r c e s / D i v e r s i t y _ InclusionSyllabiSamples.pdf

Examples of Inclusive Language University of Michigan. (2022). Inclusive Teaching at U-M. College of Literature. Sciences and the Arts. https://sites.lsa.umich.edu/inclusive-teaching/ Texas Council for Developmental Disabilities (2022). People First Language. https://tcdd.texas.gov/resources/people-first-language/

Activity 1 As a class, draft a list of three to four (3–4) objectives or goals to establish the framework of a learning community. Discuss and decide on the use of inclusive language within the statement. 2 As a group develop a strategy to negotiate, revise, and rewrite the inclusivity statement. Divide the various resources up among the members and report back how the resource will support the groups work. 3 Finally, reflect on the experiences of negotiating and drafting the statement for the learning community.

Post-Activity Reflections Spend about 5–7 minutes freewriting about your experience with the activity. Consider how you view yourself and others in this class in relation to the statement we have created. 1 In what ways does this statement cause you to be more aware of or desire to change the ways in which you interact with others?

184  Forster Kudjo Agama et al. 2 How does this statement help you to feel more included in the classroom community? 3 What has worked for you and your group? 4 What has not worked for you and your group? 5 What could be modified for future use?

22 Problematizing Theory and Practice Alan Chan, Jonelle Dongilla, Christopher Doxtator, Mariah Fairley, Marwa Mehio, and Parawati Siti Sondari

Learning Outcomes Students will be able to: • problematize a gap in theory and practice and visualize this gap in the form of a multimodal artistic expression

Rationale This follows the concept of using theory and practice dialogically: being critical and critical pedagogy involves being critical of theory and practice and understanding that theory and practice should be in dialectical play. In other words, theory should be used to be critical of practice and practice to be critical of theory. The articles we chose all problematize existing or established theory and show that if we don’t problematize theory, it risks becoming oppressive. For example, identity in theory often emphasizes social categories which can create binaries that limit and do not describe actual identities in practice (Rudolph, Yazan, & Rudolph, 2019). For another example, Kubota (2014) emphasizes being critical not to use hybridity and pluralism as markers to further marginalize, individualize, and commodify, the very thing hybridity meant to prevent.

Selected Pre-Activity Readings Kubota, R. (2014). The multi/plural turn, postcolonial theory, and neoliberal multiculturalism: Complicities and implications in applied linguistics. Applied Linguistics, 37(4), 474–494. Rudolph, N., Yazan, B., & Rudolph, J. (2019). Negotiating ‘ares,’ ‘cans,’ and ‘shoulds’ of being and becoming in English language teaching: Two teacher accounts from one Japanese university. Asian Englishes, 21, 1–16.

Activity Each group will receive a card describing a theory/practice issue that has been problematized by a theorist in a scholarly publication: DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-23

186  Alan Chan et al. 1 Discuss the gap between theory and practice in the scenario with your group. Stay cognizant of your context—personalize and problematize! 2 Engage in artistic expression: Choose a mode to represent the gap (or aspect of the gap) that you just discussed. For example, song, drawing, poem, skit. 3 Share visual representations. Discuss suggestions for bridging the theory–practice gap from all groups.

Problematizing Theory and Practice Cards This card describes a theory/practice issue that has been problematized by a theorist in a scholarly publication. Gap I: between understanding language and activity as neutral or dynamic; for example, dialogue, unchecked, takes on the sociocultural characteristics of its context and participants 1. 2.

Discuss the gap between theory and practice in the scenario with your group. Stay cognizant of your context - personalize and problematize! Engage in artistic expression: Choose a mode to represent the gap (or aspect of the gap) that you just discussed. Ex.) song, drawing, poem, skit, etc.

Further Reading: Kaufmann, J.J. (2010). The practice of dialogue in critical pedagogy. Adult Education Quarterly, 60(5), 456–476.

Figure 22.1  Card addressing language and activity as neutral or dynamic.

This card describes a theory/practice issue that has been problematized by a theorist in a scholarly publication. Gap 2: between universalized concepts of peace and critical pedagogy being used in peace education; peace education which is a specific implementation of critical pedagogical theory sometimes adopts universalized understandings of peace that in practice end up being more oppressive than liberatory. 1. 2.

Discuss the gap between theory and practice in the scenario with your group. Stay cognizant of your context - personalize and problematize! Engage in artistic expression: Choose a mode to represent the gap (or aspect of the gap) that you just discussed. Ex.) song, drawing, poem, skit, etc.

Further Reading: Bajaj, M. (2015). ‘Pedagogies of resistance’ and critical peace education praxis. Journal of Peace Education, 12(2), 154–166.

Figure 22.2  Card addressing universalized concepts of peace, critical pedagogy, and peace education.

Problematizing Theory and Practice  187 This card describes a theory/practice issue that has been problematized by a theorist in a scholarly publication. Gap 3: Identity in theory often emphasizes social categories which can create binaries that limit and do not describe actual identities in practice 1. 2.

Discuss the gap between theory and practice in the scenario with your group. Stay cognizant of your context - personalize and problematize! Engage in artistic expression: Choose a mode to represent the gap (or aspect of the gap) that you just discussed. Ex.) song, drawing. poem, skit, etc.

Further reading: Rudolph, N., Yazan, B., & Rudolph, J. (2018). Negotiating ‘ares,’ ‘cans,’ and ‘shoulds’ of being and becoming in English language teaching: Two teacher accounts from one Japanese university, Asian Englishes, 21(1), 22–37.

Figure 22.3  Card addressing social categories and social binaries.

This card describes a theory/practice issue that has been problematized by a theorist in a scholarly publication. Gap 4: emphasizes being critical not to use hybridity and pluralism as markers to further marginalize, individualize, and commodify, the very thing hybridity meant to prevent 1. 2.

Discuss the gap between theory and practice in the scenario with your group . Stay cognizant of your context - personalize and problematize! Engage in artistic expression: Choose a mode to represent the gap (or aspect of the gap) that you just discussed. Ex.) song, drawing, poem, skit, etc.

Further reading: Kubota, R. (2014). The multi/plural turn, postcolonial theory, and neoliberal multiculturalism: Complicities and implications in applied linguistics. Applied Linguistics, 37(4), 474–494.

Figure 22.4  Card addressing hybridity and pluralism.

188  Alan Chan et al. This card describes a theory/practice issue that has been problematized by a theorist in a scholarly publication. Gap 5: Addressing the gap between grand theorizing and classroom practice, Shokouhi and Pashaie (2015) proposed the practices of dialogue and teacher-student partnership to select socially and individually meaningful themes to students to work in classroom discussions. 1. 2.

Discuss the gap between theory and practice in the scenario with your group. Stay cognizant of your context - personalize and problematize! Engage in artistic expression: Choose a mode to represent the gap (or aspect of the gap) that you just discussed. Ex.) song, drawing, poem, skit, etc.

Further reading: Shokouhi, M., & Pashaie, F. (2015). Critical pedagogy and its realization in classroom context. Journal of Applied Linguistics and Language Research, 2, 204–210.

Figure 22.5  Card addressing the gap between grand theorizing and classroom practice.

This card describes a theory/practice issue that has been problematized by a theorist in a scholarly publication. Gap 6: between the commonly-agreed views and identities of World Englishes and the self-marginalised image and power relations of a variety of English (i.e. China English) 1. 2.

Discuss the gap between theory and practice in the scenario with your group . Stay cognizant of your context - personalize and problematize! Engage in artistic expression: Choose a mode to represent the gap (or aspect of the gap) that you just discussed. Ex.) song, drawing, poem, skit, etc.

Further reading: Nuske, K. (2018). “I mean I’m kind of discriminating my own people”: A Chinese TESOL graduate student’s shifting perceptions of China English. TESOL Quarterly, 52(2), 360–390.

Figure 22.6  Card addressing World Englishes and varieties of English.

Post-Activity Reflections Spend about 5–7 minutes freewriting about your experience with the activity. What has worked for you and your group? What could be modified for future use?

23 Theory to Practice of Dialogic Approach Sayed Ali Reza Ahmadi, Myssan Laysy, and Pooja Bhatia Narang

Learning Outcomes Students will be introduced to, and engage in, dialogues around a literacy narrative written by the multilingual writer Suresh Canagarajah. Students will be able to: • learn to think critically • learn to read between the lines • learn to think about the text and thinking that goes beyond these texts • reflect on their own literacy practices and how reflective writing tasks help them grow as a writer and as a person • learn about narrative stylistic elements, such as dialogues, descriptions, vivid details and how to use them in their own writing

Rationale Dialogues are vitally important to create the ideal learning teaching atmosphere in a classroom. A dialogic approach prevents teachers from taking the role of a threatening and dominating teacher and instead enables them to promote love, faith, and hope. Further, it promotes diverse worldviews; both teachers and students learn from each other effectively by sharing their ideas with each other. The process allows them to negotiate, which further helps implement critical pedagogy in a classroom. It should be executed as a two-way process. Teachers still have a major role in such activities and should have authority so that the activities run well; however, at the same time, it should go smoothly without putting students’ freedom to participate in common knowledge forms and social relations at stake.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003357001-24

190  Sayed Ali Reza Ahmadi et al.

Pre-Activity Reading Canagarajah, S. (2001). The fortunate traveler: Shuttling between communities and literacies by economy class. In D. Belcher & U. Connor’s (Eds.), Reflections on Multiliterate Lives. United Kingdom: Multilingual Matters.

Activity Read “The Fortunate Traveler: Shuttling between Communities and Literacies by Economy Class” by Suresh Canagarajah (2001). 2 Discuss the author and title: 1

a Who is the author? Can you talk about him? b How about the title? Do you find it problematic? Why or why not? 3 While reading, tasks can include (but are not limited to): a Asking students to take sides on the excerpts from the reading. For example, excerpt 1: “…English as a language of secrecy, power, and mystery; a language owned by others, not belonging to me; a language that could put into disadvantage those who aren’t proficient in it” (p. 24). b Central question: Do you agree or disagree that English is a language of secrecy, power, and mystery? Why or why not? c Additionally, relate the reading excerpts to the students’ personal lives. For example, in the excerpt, “I would become politically sensitive enough to question the unfair power enjoyed by this language” what unfairness is the author referring to here? Have you ever experienced any kind of unfairness as an L2 learner of English? 4 In a group of three or four, discuss the author’s childhood literacy event. a Talk about the books that he read as a child. Talk about the places and times for his literacy experience. b Think about the agents. What role did they play in his literacy life? How did they help him learn to read and write? How did they shape him as a person? 5 As a class, discuss: a What do you think about expressive writing? What do you think it can do for you? Why couldn’t it win the prize for the author? Do you think it was a fair decision by the examiner? How would you feel if it happened to you? b Ask students to reflect on the reading in particular.

Theory to Practice of Dialogic Approach  191 c Ask them to write about how the text is related to their personal lives. d Ask them to write a short narrative in 400–500 words. Here are some questions/prompts to get them started: i

ii

iii iv v vi vii

Think about a specific moment in your life when you learned to speak, read, and write in your first and/or second and/or third language (any languages you know). This story should NOT be a chronology of your literate lives; it should draw on your experiences. Tell us about the place and time for this literacy experience. What was this experience like? What was working/not working? Was it helpful? Not helpful? Think about the agents, such as people who helped you or hindered your acquisition of this literacy skill. How might you define literacy in light of your experiences learning more than one language? How did these learning experiences influence your life and interests? How did these literacy practices shape you to be the person you are? Does this literacy experience have an epiphany (a turning point/aha moment)? Think about self-awareness/self-reflection during this learning experience and include it in your conclusion.

Post-Activity Reflections Spend about 5–7 minutes freewriting about your experience with the activity. What has worked for you and your group? What could be modified for future use?

Index

Note: Page numbers in italics and bold refers to figures and table respectively. academic integrity violations 58 academic probation 59 adaptive learning 86 African-American Vernacular English (AAVE) 29 Ahmad, A. M. 130 Akbari, R. 119, 123–124 Alvarez, S. 15–16 anti-monolingual language pedagogy 15 anti-racism 45, 115 anxiety: in EAL classes 82; in foreign language classrooms 69; inducers 69–70; inducing situations 67; stress and 69; student’s acquisition skills 66 Apple, M. W. 150 arts-based inquiry 161–162 assimilationist ideology 138 attitudes toward learning 88 audacious hope 148 Auerbach, E. 111, 113–114, 126 austerity 24 autoethnography 5 Ayers, W. 152 Bajaj, M. 30, 46 banking concept 3, 78, 120 banking model of education 4, 23–24, 86, 106, 110–112, 112, 122 banking system 139 Bartolomé, L. 45–46, 52, 56, 108, 138, 180 bedroom community 13 big-box universities 37 bilingualism 15–16, 19 Birjandi, P. 128–130

Black English Vernacular (BEV) 11 Blake, W. 40–41 Bloch, E. 148 blog and wiki assignments 17 Boal, A. 164 Board of Regents (BOR) 24 Bogdan, S. 2 border pedagogy 15 Bozalek, B. 148 Brazilian critical literacy educator 10 Breuing, M. 119 bridging theory and practice, language education 15–18 Buddhism 70–71 Canagarajah, A. S. 102 capitalism 31 Cardboard Citizens 164 Carrillo, J. 15 Cervantes-Soon, C. 15 Chan, A. 5 “chew and pour” approach 122 Chinese philosophy 70–71 classroom: anxiety 69; discourse 78–79; K-12 6; K-20 1; liberatory potential 101–102; mindfulness 70; suicide 44 code meshing 11, 177 collaborative authorship 2 collaborative learning 92 colonial construct 24–25 community: -based practice 116; and communion 156; involvement 2; -oriented projects and pedagogies 141; –school relationship 13, 17 “community service-learning” approach 15

Index 193 composition class 98 conceptual language 41 Conference on College Composition and Communication (CCCC) 136–137 Connecticut State Colleges and Universities (CSCU) plans 24 conscientização 67 conscientization 67–68 constructivism 88–90 contemplative creative writing 3–4, 68; defining and exploring 66–71; mindfulness exercise 71–73; turning practice into praxis 71 contemplative education 40 contemplative pedagogy 3–4 contextualizing critical pedagogy 161 Cope, J. 66–67 course syllabi 139–140 “creative interventions in world” 29–30 creative writing in English: critical pedagogy 78–80; critical thinking 77–78; loss of identity and 83; and pedagogy rationale 80; personal reflection on language learning 76–77; suggestions for pedagogical practices 80–83 creativity 6, 82–83 critical consciousness 88 critical emotional praxis 153 critical hope: autoethnography 149; concept 147–149; emotional and embodied labors 150–151; lived enactments of 150–157; prefiguring transformations 157–158 critical language pedagogy 5, 136 Critical Language Pedagogy 138 critical pedagogies 3, 9–11, 23; creative writing in English 78–80; definition 61; historic movements 46; language teaching-learning approach 68; for personalized learning (PL) 89; student-centered approach 68 critical pedagogues 11; challenge for 43; in language education 19; social media activism 19 Critical Pedagogy Reader, The (2008) 1 critical-pedagogy-related concepts 1–2 critical performative pedagogy (CPP) 174

critical social theory 108 critical thinking 126 Crookes, G. 90 culture/cultural: differences 82; teaching 26; workers 95–96 “current-future” teaching vision 88 customized learning 86 cyberspace 129 Dalit community 30 Debbane, A.-M. 30 deficit ideology 138 democratic authority 44 democratic-minded learning space 44 Dewey, J. 109 Dia, A. A. 119 dialectical relationship 3 Diallo, R. 5 dialogue and critical pedagogy 172–173 differentiated instruction (DI) 86 digital literacies 18 disposition for change 38–39 diverse language practices 2 dominant language 79 Dongilla, J. 4 double consciousness 28, 41 Down, B. 141 DuBois, W. E. B. 40–41 Duncan-Andrade, J. M. R. 147–148 economic development and social mobility 168 educational engagement 46 educational philosophy 109 educators: and learner paradigm 3–4; responsibility 108 effort-based grading contract 3 EGAP course 115 emergency remote teaching (ERT) 135 empowerment 113 engaged pedagogy 77–78 English and Composition Diagnostic 57 English as a Second Language (ESL) programs 53–54 English for General Academic Purposes (EGAP) course 107, 115 English language: as Additional Language (EAL) classrooms 86; dominance 26; and heritage languages 2; proficiencies 88

194 Index English Language Teaching (ELT) 121 English learners (ELs) 135–136 English learning 120 English-only approach 27 English to Speakers of Other Languages (ESOL) 87–88 epistemological racism 45, 54 Ethnographic interview 130–131 Euro-American-centric knowledge and scholars 55 Experience and Education 108 experiential knowledge 45 failing students, cost of 59–61 first-generation freshman 52 foreign language: anxiety 69; and classroom anxiety 69 “Foreign Language Classroom Anxiety Scale” 67, 69 forum theater 163–164 foster school–community relationships 12 Francophone West Africa: colonial language in 121; critical pedagogy and postmethod in 120–121 freedom of thinking 77 free market capitalism 23 Freire, P. 1, 23–24, 66–67, 78–79, 87, 93, 95–96, 106–107, 112–113, 115–116, 128, 148, 157–158 Freirean critical pedagogy 10, 16, 43 French 121 General Academic Purposes (EGAP) course 115–116 ghost students 53 Giroux, H. 148, 154–155, 174 Gitlin, A. D. 17 glocal identities and practices 180–181 Goulah, J. 109 government-sponsored social safety nets 23 grading 59 Gramsci, A. 138 Halpin, D. 157 Harland, T. 78–79 Harman, R. 174 Hartwell, P. 27–28 Hashamdar, M. 128–130 health care 23

Hebbard, M. 5 Heise, M. 5 heritage-based cultural and linguistic practices 142 heritage language (HL): language variety 19; speakers 15 Hispanic Serving Institution (HSI) 24 historical inheritance 90 Historic Black College and University 37 hokey hope 148 Holec, H. 87 holism and connectivity 70–71 home identity and speech patterns 97–98 home institution 24 Hooks, B. 77–78, 81 hope deferred 148 Horwitz, E. K. 66–67, 69 Hua, Z. 99–100 human curiosity 38 humanist and liberating praxis 98 humanizing pedagogy 38 hybridity 185 Hytten, K. 148 immigrant students, local high schools 54 immigration 52 inclusivity and diversity 177 inequality 54–55, 61 inexorable vice 41 infrastructural support systems 41 Ingerski, J. 17 inner-city school 26 Inoue, A. B. 58 Institute of International Education 9 instructor–parent communication 18 instructor–student dialogue 18 integrated task 130 intellectual faculties 37 introspection 70 intuitive heuristics 129 Jenks, C. 27 Jeyaraj, J. J. 78–79 Joubert, J. 10 journaling assignment 81–82 “joy of learning” 29–30 K-12 classrooms 6 K-20 classrooms 1 Kaufmann, J. J. 170

Index 195 Kim, K. 58 Kincheloe, J. 28, 44–45, 180 King, K. 70 “knotworks” of literacy 18 knowledge: acquisition 78; co-construction of 99, 107; critical 45; experiential 45; reflectivesynthetic 45; students creating 31–32 Krashen, S. 66, 72–73 Krashen’s theory of integrative motion 72–73 Kress, T. M. 151 Kubota, R. 28, 45–46, 54, 62, 66, 168, 185 Kumaravadivelu, B. 24–29, 53, 92, 101, 128, 138–139 labor-based grading and implementing “V” grade 61–63 Lamkins, K. 3, 23–35, 182–184 language: brokers 9–10; education 53; instructors 2, 9, 13; planner 58; supremacy 27–28; testing 52 Language and Culture in Conflict: Problem-posing in the ESL Classroom 112 language skills integration 130 Latinx teacher–scholar identity 36 Latsko, J. 126 learner’s: autonomy 87; -centeredness 4; transformation 87 learning communities, indentification 182–184 learning opportunities 128–129 Lee, W. L. 27 Leeman, J. 15–17 liberatory pedagogy 98–99 Lin, A. 54, 58 linguistic ability 97 linguistic diversity 177 linguistic instrumentalism 168–169 linguistic justice 165 linguistic purism 12 linguistic racism, anti-model of 165 literacy 95; autobiography 102–103; narratives 82; practices 12 literacy autobiography 102–103 localizing, critical pedagogy practice: banking model of education 111; implementation benefits 109; interconnectedness with critical pedagogy 108–109;

motivational benefits 109; placebased education (PBE) 108; problem-posing education 110–116 Lorde, A. 101 Mackey, A. 70 Malian classrooms, critical pedagogy and postmethod in: intuitive heuristics 129; language skills integration 130; learning opportunities 128–129; negotiated interaction 129–130; negotiated syllabus 124–125; problem posing 126–128; social relevance and raising cultural consciousness 130–131 marginalized citizens 165 material hope 148 McClure, G. 155, 157, 174 McInerney, P. 32, 106, 109–110, 141 meritocracy 138 #MexKy 18 Miller, E. R. 46 mindfulness 6, 67; and education 68–69; walking meditation 73 mindfulness-based stress reduction (MBSR) 67 minimum-wage jobs 53 monolingual: ideology 12, 19; practices 7; teaching strategies 12 Mott, C. 29–30, 32–33 Mouse, M. 146–147 MovieMaker 178 multilingual: home identity 99; language learners 17; learners 3, 52, 54; retention 3; students 3, 59, 61 multimodal coursework 17 multiple educational environments 39 multi-sited ethnographic study 141 mutual meaning-making 177 mythical hope 148 native-centrism 177 native English speakers (NES) teaching 27 native speaker saviorism 27 native-speaking academics 58 nativization 27 Navarro, J. 2–3 negative capability 40–41 negotiated interaction 129–130 negotiated syllabus 124–125

196 Index neocolonialism 26 neoliberal education fixates 23 neoliberal higher education 3, 29 neoliberalism 3, 121; alienation and (self-)marginalization 28–30; critical pedagogy as an ideological approach 30–33; definitions 23; education and activism 30–31; effects on students 24–30; and epistemology 28; place-based remedies to alienation 32–33; saviorism and sentimentality 27–28; students creating knowledge 31–32 New York City Department of Education 13 non-degree-seeking 52 non-dominant varieties of English 27 non-Euro-American scholars 28 Normative knowledge 45 Nulton, C. 3 Nuske, K. 55, 177 Ogunniyi, M. B. 121 one-on-one writing consultations 50 online pedagogy: conceptual framework 136; critical pedagogy 137–138; English learners (ELs) 135–136; incorporating critical pedagogy in online writing instruction 138–139; online writing instruction (OWI) 5, 136–137; perceptual mismatches minimization 141–143; place-based education (PBE) 141–143; printed orthographic text 135 online platforms 83 online writing instruction (OWI) 5, 136–137 Online Writing Labs for L2 writers 139–140 overarching 137 Özkaral, T. C. 109 Palenyy, M. 4, 95–105, 172–173 parent–teacher conferences 17 Park, G. xiii, xv, 1–8 PBE see place-based education (PBE) peace education and critical pedagogy 30 pedagogical shortcomings 89–90 pedagogical tension 87–88 Pedagogy of Freedom 37, 70–71, 79, 87 Pedagogy of the Oppressed 1, 23, 36–41, 45, 81, 87, 106

peer-to-peer collaboration 18 Pennycook, A. 66 performative pedagogy 174–176 Perl, S. 27 personalized learning (PL) 4, 80; agency and autonomy in 87; approach to language learning 92; banking model 86; collaborative learning 92; constructivism 88–89; critical pedagogy, need for 89; “current-future” teaching vision 88; definition 86; excerpt from newcomer playlist 91; learner autonomy 87; learner’s transformation 87; pedagogical shortcomings 89–90; pedagogical tension 87–88; professional learning community (PLC) 92; teaching in multilingual classrooms 90–92 Pillow, W. 149 Pinto, A. V. 38 PL see personalized learning (PL) place-based education (PBE) 32, 141–142 pluralism 185 political economy 56 postmethod and critical pedagogy: in Francophone West Africa 119–121, 124; intuitive heuristics 129; language skills integration 130; learning opportunities 128–129; limitations 123–124; negotiated interaction 129–130; negotiated syllabus 124–125; possibilities and relevance 121–123; problem posing 126–128; social relevance and raising cultural consciousness 130–131 post-retrenchment notices 155 PPE see problem-posing education (PPE) practicality 139 pre-packaged curriculum 29 Price, M. 3–4, 76–85 Primarily White Institutions (PWI) 37 printed orthographic text 135 problematizing theory and practice 185–188, 186–188 problem posing approach 126–128 Problem-Posing at Work: Popular Educator’s Guide 110 problem-posing dialogue 23–24

Index 197 problem-posing education (PPE) 10, 17; application 111–113; banking model of education vs. 111–112, 112; benefits and implementation critiques 113–114; conceptual framework 110–111; General Academic Purposes (EGAP) course 115–116; ideology 111; practice 78; questioning strategy 112; rationales behind combining place-based education and 114–115 professional learning community (PLC) 92 project-based learning 58 public investment in schools 23

racialized identities 100–101 racism 54–56, 165 rationalism 100 Reading SAT 52 real learners 43 reflections on silence 170–171 reflective-synthetic knowledge 45 reflexive awareness 45 reflexive literacy 45 reflexivity of discomfort 149 remedial English 56–57 resisting linguistic and cultural erasure: classroom liberatory potential 101–102; critical pedagogy 98–99; literacy autobiography 102–103; student identity and noble educator myth 99–101; teacher-scholar philosophy 95–97; teaching context 97–98 retrenchment process 153, 156 revised inner speech 68–69 Reynolds, W. M. 153 Rollnick, M. 121 Rosa, M. 2, 81–82 Rudolph, N. xiii–xvi, 187

self-perception 67, 72–73 self-reflection 6, 191; activity 161; modality 7; process 38 Shakouri, N. 69 Shakur, T. 147–148 Shannon, P. 174 Sharma, G. 31, 82 Shvidko, E. 70 Smyth, J. 141 social justice 98; curricula 174; -oriented teachers 150 social media platforms 18 social relevance and raising cultural consciousness 130–131 Social Security 23 socratic hope 148 solidarity 156 Solnit, R. 146 spacio-temporal infrastructure 41 Spanish language program 16 spect-actors 165 Strait, J. E. 69–70 stress and anxiety reduction 4 striking a bargain 130 structural and cultural violence 30 student: -centered creativity 6; -centeredness as critical pedagogy 89; engagement and agency 68; -focused school–community 13; identities and linguistic repertoires 98; identity 182; language acquisition 4; local habitus 180; -of-the-teacher 11; -oriented evaluation 109; –professor relational economies 151; social-emotional wellbeing 88; stress and anxiety 69–70; –teacher reflectivity 19 “Students First” 24 supremacy textualism 174 surfing the net 129 Sustainable Development Goals 115–116

SAT score 57 saviorism 27 school and community 2; cohesion 18; partnership 13–14; relationships 2, 11 second language: anxiety 69; teaching 1 self-awareness 191 self-expression 69 self-marginalization 29

Taco Literacies class 18 #tacoliteracy 18 Talatou, A. 119 Tallahassee Community College library 37 Taş, A. M. 108 teachers: -centered classroom 170; -centered instruction 119; -centered pedagogy 120; cultural workers 95–96; embodied critical

Quebec protest 30–31

198 Index pedagogy 157; identity 182; -of-thestudents 11; and students mutual relationship 77–78 teacher-scholars 1; development 36–37; paradigm 44; relationship 45; values 45 Teaching Critical Thinking 77, 81 Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages (TESOL) 52 teaching in multilingual classrooms 90–92 technological spaces concept 17 TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) 2, 4, 66, 78, 80–81, 180 text-based materials 141 text-based writing 32 theory to practice of dialogic approach 189–191 theory wars 40 Thomson-Bunn, H. 98–99, 116 Tidal River Community College (TRCC) 24 Tollefson, J. W. 26, 53 transformative intellectual 100 transforming language education: community schools 12–15; critical pedagogy 10–11; translanguaging 11–12 translanguaging pedagogy 9, 11–12, 82 translators 9–10 translingual: approach 12; classroom 67; community 97 transmission-based pedagogy 120 transnational upbringing 40

unbound Capitalism 41 unemployment 123–124 university-community partnerships 16–17 untouchables 30 urban community college 3 US civil rights movement 30 Utopian social praxis 36–47 “V” grade implementation 61–63 Villanueva, V. 56, 61–62 VirtualDub 178 vocabulary sets 90 Wall, S. 149 Wallerstein, N. 111, 113–114 Wal-Mart 26 Webb, D. 148 Webb’s Depth of Knowledge 90 WeChat 18 welfare dependency 26 whitemasters/colonizers 62 whiteness, psychological effect 55 world Englishes and language varieties 177–179 Yazan, B. xiii–xvi, 187 Yoon, H. 100 Yulianto, S. W. 111 Zajonc, A. 67 Zembylas, M. 151, 153, 156 Zervos, E. 126 Zoom gathering 147 Zournazi, M. 153–154, 156, 158 Zupan, S. 30