we speak asindividuals too, reminded by the tapping of our keyboards of the words we writeand the things we did.
This part stands out because it brings the responsibility back to the individual. Even with theory, collaboration, and abstraction, the authors cannot fully distance themselves from their actions or the choices they make.
we occasionally must face the risk thatwe shall be revealed by our students, our readers, our critics to be less than honest,less than complete in our evaluation.
Putting experiences into writing opens the possibility of being seen as incomplete or inconsistent, especially by students or critics.
While this moment of a teacher’sobservation, analysis, and evaluation illustrates the organic process through whichany classroom facilitator responds to the ebb and flow of student attention andunderstanding, a subtly insidious discourse creeps into the classroom once themoment is mediated by remote control.
Once this is filtered through technology, it feels less natural and more controlled, which hints that something shifts when teaching is mediated by a screen.
Looking at the screen, theteacher marvels: “You seem to understand the history of Haussmannization inParis, but you do not understand its implications.”
Teaching depends on reading the room and responding in the moment to what students do or do not understand.
For instance, the act of reading the student’s words, initiallyposted into a private e-mail full of personal invective, into a tape recorder duringan investigation into alleged instructor misconduct reveals a strange dislocation.The “live” moment of conflict becomes distilled into a paper reproduction.
The example of turning a private email into a recorded and documented artifact shows how digital communication can strip context from emotional moments. It highlights how online interactions can feel unstable and easily reinterpreted once they are removed from their original setting.
Human identity is malleable, and so too are our efforts to levy power. In otherwords, the identity of those who are powerful and those upon whom power isenacted emerges through a series of interactions and ritualistic performances. Fromthis perspective, the computer-augmented classroom quickly becomes ephemeral,intangible, slippery.
This frames identity and power as something that develops through repeated interactions rather than something fixed. It emphasizes how authority is performed and reinforced over time, not simply assigned.
Technological innovation in the classroom gives rise to a particularly richopportunity for the exploration of identity in that it more closely approximateshow individuals shift their senses of self in relation to others. We move throughour worlds with a relatively stable sense of identity, often assigning characteristicson the basis of physiology (i.e., skin color, the presence of particular reproductiveorgans, etc.).
This stands out because it links technology to the way identity shifts in relation to others rather than remaining fixed. It highlights how online spaces allow people to move beyond physical markers and present themselves in more fluid ways.
Instructional communication scholars might respond to this limitation by looking tothe work of de Certeau. de Certeau’s (1988) work affords us a means of understand-ing the distributed nature of power: strategies and tactics.
Introducing strategies and tactics shifts the focus from power being held by one authority to power being negotiated in everyday actions. I find myself wondering how much agency students actually have within these systems, and where resistance really shows up in practice.
Theorists of critical pedagogy have failed to launch any meaningful analysis or program for reformulatingthe institutionalized power imbalances between themselves and their students, or of the essentiallypaternalistic project of education itself. In the absence of such an analysis and program, their effortsare limited to trying to transform negative effects of power imbalances within the classroom into positiveones. Strategies such as student empowerment and dialogue give the illusion of equality while in factleaving the authoritarian nature of the teacher/student relationship intact. (p. 98)
This is a strong critique of critical pedagogy and I wonder whether classroom equality is ever truly possible, or if it is often more symbolic than real.
oon after, a most intriguing byproduct of online interaction emerges. Within hours, otherstudents post aggressive replies to my troubled interlocutor: “The professor ANSWERED yourquestion. READ THE WEBSITE!” Some even post direct messages to me, thanking me for mypatience and dedication. My gratification that most students seem to “get it” parallels appreciationof a medium that diverts my need to interact directly with a troubled student, one who implicitlychallenges my course development skills by asking questions I felt I had well answered.
This feels complicated because peer responses both support the instructor and escalate tension. It raises questions for me about whether online spaces encourage accountability and self-regulation, or if they simply shift conflict away from instructors while amplifying it among students.
Scrolling through my e-mail box, I pause at one message submitted to my classroom listserv. It isfrom her. Over the past few weeks, I’ve received a number of abrupt and troubling messages fromthis student—often ending with: “I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND ALL THIS STUFF.” Inmy experience, the use of CAPS connotes anger or aggression and often evokes feelings ofdefensiveness within me.
I will have to add that capitalization can completely change how I receive a message for either better or worse. So, how often would we say tone is misunderstood in online communication, especially when frustration is expressed without context?
Furthermore,because autoethnographic writing analyzes “the shape and pattern of lived experi-ence as shaped and patterned by the ethnographer’s personal, political and poeticexperiences, choice of narrative forms and uses of language,” it is an ideal foil foran exploration of the creation, maintenance, and negotiation of identities, ingeneral, and for an exploration of how we embody and resist different pedagogicalideologies, in particular (Goodall, 2000, p. 77).
“This shows how autoethnographic writing helps unpack identity by focusing on lived experience and language. It highlights how teaching beliefs show up in everyday practice and how they can be pushed back against.
n particular, such analysis may function to model an awareness of, and criticalengagement with, “asymmetries of power, unequal opportunities to render judg-ments, and maldistributions of responsibility and rewards in our institutional lives,perhaps to help us better recognize the obstacles to creating more effectivecommunities” (Banks & Banks, 2000, p. 236).
Paying attention to these imbalances can help make sense of why creating fair and effective communities is often so difficult.
To engage in autoethno-graphic analysis, a researcher must reflect on their experiences in order to discernhow they are both product and producer of a given cultural phenomenon.
This stands out because it frames self-reflection as essential to research. It highlights how researchers are both shaped by the culture they study and actively shape it through their own experiences and perspectives.
This is an exploration born of frustration, born of our shared difficulty to findmirrors in our field’s literature for our own pedagogical practices.
The shift from in-person interaction to constant email feels frustrating, and it shows how digital communication can replace deeper connection with efficiency and volume. It makes me wonder what is lost when interaction becomes mostly electronic, and whether it truly affects people in the ways we assume, or if this is simply part of our ongoing adjustment to rapidly evolving technology.
ve always decorated my spacewith family photos, vacation mementos, and other items that offer insight into my personality andinterests. I don’t necessarily expect that students will gain any particular pleasure in viewing thismemorabilia.
This makes me think about how physical spaces allow instructors to show more of themselves, which can humanize the relationship with students. Those small personal details seem to create moments of connection that are harder to replicate online.
My desktop e-mail icon flashes. More messages. I’m one mouse click away from sexualgratification, a second mortgage, and a get-rich opportunity announced by a Nigerian diplomat.Scrolling down, the more insistent e-mails announce their presence with bold-faced (evencolor-coded) headers: “One more question about your assignment,” “Could you review this draft?”“Did you get my e-mail?” Scanning one particularly crisis-soaked missive, I think about the officehours I used to enjoy.
I feel this on a personal level and I understand how overwhelming digital communication can feel, especially when everything demands immediate attention. I think about how constant connectivity has changed boundaries around work and availability.