Humans in recent decades have moved at an increasingly frenetic pace to develop technologies that will automate additional facets of our existence. Artificial Intelligence (AI) has been unleashed on society without regulation. AI is being used to create images and texts that alleviate humans of the need to design, paint, or write for themselves; it learns from the creative and intellectual properties of people who are then not compensated for the unauthorized use of their work. Those of us in academia and the arts are left asking: “Where do we go from here?” This statement, thus, is not a condemnation of AI and advanced technologies but a defense of the humanities as integral to nurturing compassionate, peaceful societies.
Advanced technologies will not remove the need for humans to negotiate with one another toward resolving conflict and overcoming differences. It will not help humanity to avoid its self-created crises and catastrophes. It certainly will never foster empathy and compassion: tow requisites for a good benefiting the majority of life on Earth. If our motive does not initially consider the “other,” we have a moral duty to investigate the limitations of our thinking regarding our inherent interconnectedness. This missive is not an indictment of AI, automation or technological advancement; it is not a chastisement of those who might prefer to tune out on big, potentially overwhelming issues. It is, instead, a statement in defense of the arts, the literary arts in particular, in nurturing humans in ways that technology cannot. It is also a reminder that the process of learning something can be its own reward.
Students understandably want to succeed academically and it is my No. 1 aim to help them achieve course goals. Although I use required rubrics meticulously, it is also my objective to quell students’ fixation on grades and end results. Early in a workshop or course, I inform students of my teaching philosophy and the three pillars holding it up that will be integral to their success not only in my class or future classes but in their future professions and overall lives.
The principles guiding my teaching philosophy are:
Advanced technologies will not remove the need for humans to negotiate with one another toward resolving conflict and overcoming differences. It will not help humanity to avoid its self-created crises and catastrophes. It certainly will never foster empathy and compassion: tow requisites for a good benefiting the majority of life on Earth. If our motive does not initially consider the “other,” we have a moral duty to investigate the limitations of our thinking regarding our inherent interconnectedness. This missive is not an indictment of AI, automation or technological advancement; it is not a chastisement of those who might prefer to tune out on big, potentially overwhelming issues. It is, instead, a statement in defense of the arts, the literary arts in particular, in nurturing humans in ways that technology cannot. It is also a reminder that the process of learning something can be its own reward.
Students understandably want to succeed academically and it is my No. 1 aim to help them achieve course goals. Although I use required rubrics meticulously, it is also my objective to quell students’ fixation on grades and end results. Early in a workshop or course, I inform students of my teaching philosophy and the three pillars holding it up that will be integral to their success not only in my class or future classes but in their future professions and overall lives.
The principles guiding my teaching philosophy are:
Keeping reading to learn the “why” of each belief.
ASK QUESTIONS.
But speaking up to seek assistance is not always easy.
Acquiring unfamiliar information and working with new concepts are inherent to education. Thus, I expect my students to ask questions about the material we are learning and requirements for tests or assignments. Asking for help is an act of vulnerability that can bring about fear of embarrassment or ridicule. I was a shy kid whom teachers praised for being well-behaved and not talking in class. My silence, though, sometimes hid that I was completely lost. When a teacher would ask if there were any questions and the rest of the class was silent, I did not dare raise my hand to express confusion. I stayed quiet too and would later, while doing homework or studying for a test, figure it out on my own—a strategy that did not always produce successful results.
As I moved into graduate studies, though, I was more confident to speak up after having spent significant time in the workforce after undergrad. Not only is there no shame in asking questions (though bad prior experiences with parents, teachers, friends or others may condition us to believe otherwise), there is great benefit. It is my primary goal to make my classrooms safe spaces where students can comfortably learn—including asking questions.
Although I am willing to privately answer by email any student question related to learning concepts or assignment, it is my preference that these inquiries be made in class. As I described from my own experiences as a student, if you have a question, there is a strong possibility that other students do too. Speaking up, thus, helps the entire class. It is for this reason that I often share my answers to privately-submitted student questions with the entire class (of course, without revealing student names), unless it pertains specifically to an individual project or paper.
Asking questions is especially vital to learning in the online classroom and even more so encouraged.
As I moved into graduate studies, though, I was more confident to speak up after having spent significant time in the workforce after undergrad. Not only is there no shame in asking questions (though bad prior experiences with parents, teachers, friends or others may condition us to believe otherwise), there is great benefit. It is my primary goal to make my classrooms safe spaces where students can comfortably learn—including asking questions.
Although I am willing to privately answer by email any student question related to learning concepts or assignment, it is my preference that these inquiries be made in class. As I described from my own experiences as a student, if you have a question, there is a strong possibility that other students do too. Speaking up, thus, helps the entire class. It is for this reason that I often share my answers to privately-submitted student questions with the entire class (of course, without revealing student names), unless it pertains specifically to an individual project or paper.
Asking questions is especially vital to learning in the online classroom and even more so encouraged.
TRUST THE PROCESS.
We are on a journey together and I happy to be your guide.
“Trust the process” was the unofficial slogan of my graduate program. The director of my MFA program used it; advisors and peers uttered these words too.
By my third semester, these words inspired from my feigned puking sounds. To embark upon a journey, and to have the willingness to encounter unknowns, requires faith in me as your guide and courage even to begin. Yes, we want to reach a definition and a college course puts time limits in place to ensure we keep moving. But as we move along, we should keep our minds open to unexpected encounters with opportunities to gain experience, reflect, or even play. We want to make it out of the metaphorical woods before nightfall but should not expect our hike to be smooth and free of obstacles. We are almost guaranteed to require breaks for food and rest or even to resolve unexpected problems. I use the hiking metaphor because it reminds that the brain is part of the body, which needs rest and refueling following rigorous activity.
It can be hard to juggle multiple classes, work, family, and other commitments. But I am advocate for students completing reading assignments soon after they are assigned so that their brains can passively but thoroughly process information. I recommend the same strategy for writing—getting started early and allowing for a period of rest before reviewing and submitting. As much as we may desire that our brains work quickly and precisely like computers, that is just not the reality of the human condition. Our brains need fuel, sleep, exercise, and time spent on other things.
Brains, like a computer battery, must recharge to function and when students express frustration or say they are overwhelmed, my suggestion usually is that they step away from the work and do something completely unrelated. A student who takes my advice to do what they need most at the moment, whether to go for a run, meeting a friend for coffee, or clean the house, would surely be trusting the process! The student would be acting on faith that stepping away will allow them to return to the work with fresh eyes and energy.
By my third semester, these words inspired from my feigned puking sounds. To embark upon a journey, and to have the willingness to encounter unknowns, requires faith in me as your guide and courage even to begin. Yes, we want to reach a definition and a college course puts time limits in place to ensure we keep moving. But as we move along, we should keep our minds open to unexpected encounters with opportunities to gain experience, reflect, or even play. We want to make it out of the metaphorical woods before nightfall but should not expect our hike to be smooth and free of obstacles. We are almost guaranteed to require breaks for food and rest or even to resolve unexpected problems. I use the hiking metaphor because it reminds that the brain is part of the body, which needs rest and refueling following rigorous activity.
It can be hard to juggle multiple classes, work, family, and other commitments. But I am advocate for students completing reading assignments soon after they are assigned so that their brains can passively but thoroughly process information. I recommend the same strategy for writing—getting started early and allowing for a period of rest before reviewing and submitting. As much as we may desire that our brains work quickly and precisely like computers, that is just not the reality of the human condition. Our brains need fuel, sleep, exercise, and time spent on other things.
Brains, like a computer battery, must recharge to function and when students express frustration or say they are overwhelmed, my suggestion usually is that they step away from the work and do something completely unrelated. A student who takes my advice to do what they need most at the moment, whether to go for a run, meeting a friend for coffee, or clean the house, would surely be trusting the process! The student would be acting on faith that stepping away will allow them to return to the work with fresh eyes and energy.
ACCEPT THIS GIFT OF CRITIQUE.
It contains fuel for growth.
One of my biggest challenges as an educator is convincing students that constructive criticism is necessary and beneficial. For many people, critique is a source of anxiety or even anger. But when the mindset of a learner shifts from the singular focus of getting a good grade to the broader one of gaining knowledge and skills for the now and the future, while also developing personally, stress typically lessens. And the degree to which critique can feel like a positive experience—not just after it helps students to polish a paper resulting in a desired A+ grade, but in the moment—is in part determined by whether students are bought into the first two principles described above.
Asking questions sparks engagement in the form of discussion, which deepens understanding.
Trusting the process means embracing all of its aspects, the easy and the challenging. Critique, for many students, ranks as a difficulty to be endured. It may not feel great to be informed that a paper needs further development or significant edits but revising is an invaluable tool that pays dividends the most it is practiced. To use another money-related metaphor, respectful, detailed critique—whether it comes from the professor or from peers—is an investment in student success. Feedback helps students improve specific assignments but the process of implementing that feedback carriers forward. Additionally, students further hone their critical reading and examining skills when they review their classmates’ work and provide substantive feedback.
The ability to give thoughtful, respectful feedback and receive it graciously can assist students in all aspects of their lives, not just in academic classrooms or future careers.
Asking questions sparks engagement in the form of discussion, which deepens understanding.
Trusting the process means embracing all of its aspects, the easy and the challenging. Critique, for many students, ranks as a difficulty to be endured. It may not feel great to be informed that a paper needs further development or significant edits but revising is an invaluable tool that pays dividends the most it is practiced. To use another money-related metaphor, respectful, detailed critique—whether it comes from the professor or from peers—is an investment in student success. Feedback helps students improve specific assignments but the process of implementing that feedback carriers forward. Additionally, students further hone their critical reading and examining skills when they review their classmates’ work and provide substantive feedback.
The ability to give thoughtful, respectful feedback and receive it graciously can assist students in all aspects of their lives, not just in academic classrooms or future careers.
Celebrating Diversity, Fighting for Justice & Fostering Inclusion:
A Lifelong Commitment & the Essence of My Life's Work
The entirety of my professional life exemplifies not just a commitment to celebrating diversity, building inclusive environments, and advocating for equity and equality, but a history of pioneering these changes everywhere I go—even when speaking against the status quo was unpopular, and often when speaking out meant doing so alone.
The marginalization of women athletes, and the Women’s National Basketball Association (WNBA) in particular, spurred my desire to put teaching on hold so that I could work as a freelance journalist reporting on the disparities in media coverage, pay, and working conditions of these athletes. My reporting appears as cited material in scholarly articles and has won awards; my article “Critical Assist” (The Red Bulletin, 2020), about two WNBA athletes who opted out of the 2020 season to devote their time to social justice initiatives in the cities where they played, won the Southern California Journalism Award for Best Sports Commentary, Print/Online.
I’ve served as a guest on panels discussing the issues of race, homophobia, and gender presentation in media’s suppression of the WNBA, thus, society’s suppression of the women who look like them. I have discussed these issues on panels hosted by the University of Texas and Loyola Marymount University; an individual speaking event at University of Tennessee did not transpire because of availability of facilities. I have been interviewed for books by authors writing about these topics. I am featured in Unfinished Business, a documentary by Alison Klayman (Motto Pictures) about the history of the WNBA, which premiered at Tribeca Film Festival and streamed on Amazon Prime.
I have appeared on NPR, BBC, CBC, CNN, MSNBC, and other news outlets as a subject-matter expert.
For the past five years I have been working on COURT QUEENS: A History of the WNBA & the Power of Persevering Women (ABRAMS Books, release date forthcoming) in which previously suppressed narratives have been excavated and the stories of women who sacrificed the most to help a professional women’s basketball league thrive in the U.S. are finally heard. Acting as an informed citizen, I started the Change.org/FreeBG petition leading to Brittney Griner’s release from wrongful detention in Russia.
From newsrooms to classrooms throughout my life, I have frequently found myself in spaces in which I am the only: woman, Black person, Black woman, or member of the LGBTQAI+ population. I cherish admission into these spaces as an honor for which I am grateful but I also recognize the responsibility inherent in opportunity. In academia, former students informed me that I was their first Black professor; for some pupils, I was the first non-white teacher they had had in their lives.
Representation matters.
It is my hope that my presence in academic spaces will inspire students who look like me to believe in their own academic potential and career aspirations. For students who do not look like me, I cling to the wish that any prejudice within them will crack into dust.
My core values were shaped on the teachings and activisms of Civil Rights leaders like Rosa Parks and Sojourner Truth, John Lewis, and Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., who instilled in me from an early age the anti-prejudiced mindset of judging others by the content of the character alone, and the necessity of speaking out against injustice. As a Brownie and Girl Scout, I learned to be of service to my community and leave spaces in better condition than when I found them.
These are the guiding principles of my life, led by the light of truth and honesty. In a social climate of shifting values, transactional alliances, and obfuscation of fact, standing by one's values often means standing alone. I've made peace with this fact because my integrity is up for neither negotiation nor sale.
The marginalization of women athletes, and the Women’s National Basketball Association (WNBA) in particular, spurred my desire to put teaching on hold so that I could work as a freelance journalist reporting on the disparities in media coverage, pay, and working conditions of these athletes. My reporting appears as cited material in scholarly articles and has won awards; my article “Critical Assist” (The Red Bulletin, 2020), about two WNBA athletes who opted out of the 2020 season to devote their time to social justice initiatives in the cities where they played, won the Southern California Journalism Award for Best Sports Commentary, Print/Online.
I’ve served as a guest on panels discussing the issues of race, homophobia, and gender presentation in media’s suppression of the WNBA, thus, society’s suppression of the women who look like them. I have discussed these issues on panels hosted by the University of Texas and Loyola Marymount University; an individual speaking event at University of Tennessee did not transpire because of availability of facilities. I have been interviewed for books by authors writing about these topics. I am featured in Unfinished Business, a documentary by Alison Klayman (Motto Pictures) about the history of the WNBA, which premiered at Tribeca Film Festival and streamed on Amazon Prime.
I have appeared on NPR, BBC, CBC, CNN, MSNBC, and other news outlets as a subject-matter expert.
For the past five years I have been working on COURT QUEENS: A History of the WNBA & the Power of Persevering Women (ABRAMS Books, release date forthcoming) in which previously suppressed narratives have been excavated and the stories of women who sacrificed the most to help a professional women’s basketball league thrive in the U.S. are finally heard. Acting as an informed citizen, I started the Change.org/FreeBG petition leading to Brittney Griner’s release from wrongful detention in Russia.
From newsrooms to classrooms throughout my life, I have frequently found myself in spaces in which I am the only: woman, Black person, Black woman, or member of the LGBTQAI+ population. I cherish admission into these spaces as an honor for which I am grateful but I also recognize the responsibility inherent in opportunity. In academia, former students informed me that I was their first Black professor; for some pupils, I was the first non-white teacher they had had in their lives.
Representation matters.
It is my hope that my presence in academic spaces will inspire students who look like me to believe in their own academic potential and career aspirations. For students who do not look like me, I cling to the wish that any prejudice within them will crack into dust.
My core values were shaped on the teachings and activisms of Civil Rights leaders like Rosa Parks and Sojourner Truth, John Lewis, and Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., who instilled in me from an early age the anti-prejudiced mindset of judging others by the content of the character alone, and the necessity of speaking out against injustice. As a Brownie and Girl Scout, I learned to be of service to my community and leave spaces in better condition than when I found them.
These are the guiding principles of my life, led by the light of truth and honesty. In a social climate of shifting values, transactional alliances, and obfuscation of fact, standing by one's values often means standing alone. I've made peace with this fact because my integrity is up for neither negotiation nor sale.