On seeing the trees...

I’ve just finished reading Burnham’s article and I have to tell you that the one thing, the one emotion that I feel at this moment is …heavy-sigh-induced relief. I am relieved that I made it through the maze of academic verbosity that describes this piece. After twisting this way and turning that way to find some source of meaning in this labyrinth of academia, I was frustrated at best and downright mad at worst. I think I must have come into the academic world too late in life to appreciate this convoluted inversion of discourse. Either that or my intellectual side is so steeped in practicality and simplicity that I can’t see the trees for the forest.

According to Steve, expressivism and process share a lot of the same trees in this forest, so I will begin looking for the familiar branches of process pedagogy as the signposts among the dense undergrowth. Burnham states that that “expressivist pedagogy employs free writing, journal keeping, reflective writing, and small-group dialogic collaborative response to foster a writer’s aesthetic, cognitive, and moral development…(and) encourages a sense of writer presence (voice) even in research-based writing” (19). Well now, doesn’t this just sound familiar? Tobin says essentially the same thing, “it was the version of process that emphasized free writing, voice, personal narrative, and writing as a form of discovery…that influenced classroom practice” (Tobin 9) It seems that both pedagogies are so interwoven that it’s difficult to tell where one begins and the other ends. (The deeper we get into the forest, the thicker the trees) Although I do get the sense that expressivism is a good deal more concerned about my “rhetorical training…a moral undertaking concerned with justice, self-control, and virtue” (Burnham 21)

Rhetorical training notwithstanding, I’m going to stick with my strong suit and look with my practical teacher’s eye to find what exists in the maze for me as an educator. What I find is something that has become essential to my growth as an educator: expressive pedagogy is entrenched in reflective practice—a vehicle for thoughts and ideas, successes and failures, emotions and even, data. And the basis for expressivism: the ubiquitous journal. Even Peter Elbow admits that it was his own journal writing that formed the cornerstone of expressivism. “Expressive pedagogy is systematic and purposeful, based on a theory of relations between language, meaning making, and self-development. Elbow’s free writing, based originally on his own journal writing, requires self-conscious language processing” (Burnham 35).

Through this medium, we privately make sense of what, why, and how we do what we do. It is in that making of meaning that we are spurred to action. As an educator-especially one with the propensity for questioning the status quo- my reflective practice is essential to my sanity. It is the place where I work out ideas, pat myself on the back, kvetch about things I hate, and look for better ways to reach kids. This is self-actualization at its finest; those steps to higher order thinking that spur us on to action…or get some of us in trouble.

So—do I think journal writing will set a fire to the social activists’ flame of my students? Hardly!! But—it might just make them think outside their narrow little box of Whiteland, Indiana. It might allow them to consider a bigger picture of society if they are urged to reflect on ideas of a larger scope like racism, poverty, courage, heroes, identity, etc. For example...

One of the most profound moments of every year occurs while reading To Kill a Mockingbird.
Before we get to the part where Atticus faces the mob in front of the jail, we spend a day or two defining and discussing the idea of mob justice, including Jim Crow laws and the Klan. I usually end this discussion with a clip from Mississippi Burning. They see first hand the cruelty of the ignorant when they view the scenes where three young college boys are brutally murdered, where black folks are savagely beaten while leaving church, and where a father of four is hung from a tree on his own farm.

When it is finished we write our feelings in our journals (I write, as well). There is no need for discussion—in fact, it is one of the few times that I don’t have to remind them to keep quiet. Many stay beyond the passing bell to finish their thoughts and there have been more than a few tears. What I find in their writing is a mixed bag of emotions. They don’t know whether to be angry or sad. Most often they are just embarrassed; embarrassed that this is their legacy.

Does this change them? Who knows…it does, however, give them a moment to pause, to think about the idea of discrimination, ignorance, and cruelty beyond reason and maybe, it will be the pause that keeps one of them from saying something cruel or stops another from picking a fight. Baby steps...

Sometimes that’s all we can hope for...from a little journal.