Newsletter from Jay Wilcox - June 2023: On Teaching

“Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

- Matthew 18:1-5

When I was a kid, I burned myself constantly. I touched hot irons and lightbulbs and cupcake pans straight from the oven. In the back of my grandpop's Oldsmobile, I made sure to jam my finger down into his cigarette lighter and could have sworn I burned myself to the bone. No one told me not to touch these things. No one should've needed to tell me--and yet. On multiple occasions, my youthful recklessness almost sent me to the kingdom of heaven.

As a professor, I generally follow the philosophy of "Teach people how to think, not what to think." I love class discussions. Plus, I'm aware of the stereotype of educators with agendas, worldviews to push, axes to grind. "I don't care what you believe," I say, at the beginning of each semester, "as long as you can back it up with valid research from reputable sources."

How might such a collegial approach have worked on a little kid who apparently enjoys burning himself?

"I don't care what you do with the lighter, as long as your thesis incorporates sufficient academic discourse."

I owe it to this hypothetical child to not take such an approach. Sure, kids should be allowed to make their own mistakes--but am I not duty bound to help them avert the worst? To offer caution from experience, effectively telling them what to think? We may disagree about the means to the end, but we all want a better world for our children. We want them to understand our world's history--and as part of such instruction, should they not see where we've burned ourselves? Is it indoctrination to warn about lighters?

There are so many topics that educators fear to broach, for fear of showing bias or alienating our audience. These can include matters of race, gender, immigration, identity... We become so enamored with perfect objectivity that we lose sight of the greater historical imperative for justice.

Consider the "open-minded" professor in 1933 Germany. "I don't care whether you're writing in favor of Hitler or against Hitler, as long as you demonstrate a clear argument and use correct punctuation." He's not telling students what to think about Hitler! He goes home and rationalizes to himself that the critical-thinking exercises his class practiced earlier this semester--the debates, the discussions--will be sufficient in keeping his students from fascism. After all, he taught them how to think about an oppressive, brainwashing regime, not what to think about an oppressive brainwashing regime.

Look, brainwashing works because we're intelligent. If you view yourself as reasonably smart, then anything that makes it past your mental gates must be something a reasonably smart person believes. Therefore, helping our students become reasonably smart is insufficient in curbing society's deepest ills. At the same time, one can't advocate for any sort of socially prescriptive pedagogy without calling to mind images of Thought Police. Perhaps the best counselors along the path to adulthood help connect our thoughts to a wider, ancestral conversation, recognizing our power in bending the arc of history.

Spring semester has concluded. I turned in my final grades last week and have been spending the time since writing, reading, and building an end table for our bedroom. I get lost in thought, working with my hands, and I sincerely thank you for following along. I hope you've been well.

Infinite Regards,

Jay