Classroom Rules and Regulations
The IEP in which our research took place had an enrollment of about 300–400 students at the time of the study. It offered classes in general English but with an emphasis on preparation for higher education. Most IEP classes were small (10–15 students). One class, however, known as the “mini-course,” had a much higher enrollment and was a content-based class intended to offer students the experience of a larger lecture course to prepare them for what they might experience on enrollment in regular university classes. In the session in question the teacher of the mini-course was Joe, a doctoral student with several years’ teaching experience. Joe had taught the same class in the previous session and had had significant problems with attendance, among other things, which was very difficult to check in a class of 50 or more students. This led Joe to devise a scheme whereby each student was assigned to a numbered seat in the large lecture hall where the class was held; this system made it much easier to be able to check quickly who was present. On the first day of the new class, Joe presented his syllabus. Part of the syllabus read as follows, in bold print:
ATTENDANCE:
Your participation is essential for this course. Student input will be of particular importance and your attendance will be vital to your success in the course. THERE ARE NO EXCUSED ABSENCES UNLESS APPROVED BY THE INSTRUCTOR OR THE IEP PROGRAM. IF YOU ARE ABSENT MORE THAN 10 TIMES FOR THIS CLASS, YOU WILL BE GIVEN A “U” FOR THE COURSE. Each student will be assigned a seat in the classroom and he/she must sit in the given seat for attendance. If the student is not in his/her seat, he/she will be marked absent and given a “U” for participation.
Tardiness:
Please do not be late for class. If you are more than 10 minutes late to class, you will be considered absent. (B.Johnston et al., 1998,p. 168)
From the point of view of values and morality, a number of interesting observations can be made about this passage. Perhaps most striking is its tone, which sets particular expectations for the teacher-student relation, more or less defining it as a matter of power relations between them and not only ignoring but counteracting the less confrontational, more supportive caring relation envisioned by Noddings (1984; see chap. 1). Second, it presupposes a lack of trust on behalf of the teacher, an issue I discuss in more detail in chapter 4. The lack of trust, moreover, arises from the fact that this group of learners, whom the teacher has never met before, are being prejudged on the basis of a previous, different group of learners—another denial of the unique relation between teacher and student. Last, and also impinging on the teacher-student relation, students are iden-tified only by their seat number; thus, a further dehumanizing of the students seems to be taking place. On the other hand, it is vital not to leap to premature condemnation of Joe or his methods. Joe was attempting to minimize class time spent on checking attendance—a program requirement—and thus maximize student engagement with the material. Furthermore, few teachers would disagree with the idea that attendance in class is highly desirable, and, in language learning, often essential, or with the suggestion that, much as we might have general respect for the freedom and agency of others, without some form of coercion certain students will simply not do what they are supposed to and what it is in their best interests to do. Last, I want to stress that Joe is not one of nature’s authoritarians; he is a warm and caring teacher whose strictness in this syllabus was occasioned by real problems encountered in the previous session. Indeed, as we reported in the study (B. Johnston et al., 1998), immediately after going over this part of the syllabus in class, Joe apologized to the class for its severe tone, sensing its dissonance with his own internal notion of the teacher-student relation. He explained this dissonance in a journal entry: This apology was one of those “moments” when the instructor senses hidden dimensions underlying classroom speech acts. At the time of my apology, I seemed compelled to rebel against the very rules I had established as a part of the classroom discourse. […] At the instant of the apology, I attempted to take a milder tone for fear of breaking a bond between myself and the class. In other words, the discourse of communication was clashing with the discourse of classroom rules. (B.Johnston et al., p. 170) The conflicting messages being sent in this case exemplify the terribly complex moral dilemmas that underlie the enactment of rules and regulations, that is, the exercise of power and authority in the classroom. Much as we may condemn authoritarian approaches such as that exemplified in Joe’s seating arrangement, in many cases such actions arise from entirely understandable moral reasoning. In this case, Joe wished to create the conditions for the best possible learning and teaching to take place in his class; to this end, however, he found that he needed to exercise a firm hand—so firm, in fact, that it went against other values he held deeply (the “bond” between teacher and student that he wrote about). More generally, we can say that the exercise of power constitutes moral action, yet the values encoded in particular acts of power and authority are complex and contradictory and are open to multiple and conflicting understandings.
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