As a scientist and educator, I am very sensitive to the mantle of authority that is foisted upon our shoulders in the role of the teacher. Appeals to authority are a big no-no in scientific thought and discourse. While I may be the subject matter expert, like my students, I too am on a learning journey. I work hard to portray myself in such a way that students recognize we are equals - that their questions are valid and, indeed, more important than any question that I might ask to spark a discussion or solicit a response.
I strive to break down any perceived barriers in the teacher-student relationship because I want to empower my students with the recognition that they are their own best teacher, so that they may become effective life-long learners. Who better to identify the most effective learning strategies than the student herself?
More than anything else, I see my job as helping my students feel comfortable in confusion. As Brian Greene says: "Science is the process that takes us from confusion to understanding." Indeed, it is only by recognizing our own ignorance that we are able to relieve ourselves of that burden. Like Houdini wrapped in chains, my students are their own liberators from the locked box of the unknown. How to undo those metaphorical chains? By asking the right kinds of questions. This takes curiosity, initiative and confidence, but it starts in a very uncomfortable place - the place of feeling confused.
On the very first day of class, as part of an "icebreaker" activity, I ask my students to write down what feelings come up when they find themselves in a place of confusion. What do they do when they are confused? After a couple of minutes, I invite them to pair and share what they've written with a partner. Then we open it up for a whole class brainstorm. Time and again students identify all the negative emotions associated with confusion: shame, embarrassment, annoyance, anger, frustration, apathy, hopelessness, isolation. When students realize that others feel alone in their confusion, it begins to foster a little trust that maybe being confused is okay. Indeed, it is a necessary part of the learning process. Something I emphasize this throughout the semester. Doing the work means finding the right questions to ask and seeking answers to get out of the muddle.
Don't get me wrong, many students also identify positives that flow from confusion, like curiosity, motivation and opportunity. This is one of the reasons why it is SO important to leverage the social dimension of learning. These glass-half-full students can model the strategies that they use to find their way out of confusion, but this only works if all take on the shared responsibility to create a safe space for learning to unfold. Physical safety is all but assured. Emotional safety on the other hand, is a little more nebulous. It can feel very vulnerable to admit that you don't know or understand something. Students are often unwilling to put themselves into such a vulnerable position, thus prolonging their sojourn in the land of confusion. The struggle is two-fold. First, they have to be willing to admit when they don't understand. Second, they have to able to articulate the source of their confusion. This second part can be very tricky, especially when delicate egos are doubly on the line - first feeling dumb for not knowing and then dumber for not being able to express how or why they don't know. So how to cultivate emotional safety, so that all students feel safe to express themselves?
Naturally, I find myself wanting to model this confusion for my students and show them how I get out of it. To show that vulnerability is part of the process, and that it is indeed a strength, not a weakness (thank you Brenee Brown for so eloquently expounding on this). And while I have found comfort in confusion and the problem-solving process, I am not always comfortable being a role model.
When one takes the role of the teacher it comes not only with the presumed mantle of authority, but also with an assumed role to model. I fully recognize that some students (not all) view me as a role model, but it baffles me and is something I take on with reluctance. Who me? A role model? You've got to be kidding! With all my foibles and flaws? With all the mistakes that I've made. But there it is. The wisdom we gain from living is exactly what gives them cause to look up to us, to learn from our missteps that they may forge a more efficient path forward. I've learned to share that role of model with my students, thus reinforcing the idea that we are equals in our learning journey though coming at it from opposite sides of the mirror - they learning Earth Science and me learning how best to reach this particular group of students, all of them bringing their own diverse backgrounds and biases. From this I must help them find a firm foundation upon which to build a sound structure. And every semester it is a new learning journey. And we shall let our confusion and uncertainty play the role of guide and see where the journey leads us. Onward.
