Yes, it’s been a long time since I posted … blah, blah, blah.
There’s something kicking around in my head right now and I often find that it helps to write it out, thus this blog post.
I’m working on a few open pedagogy related projects right now, while simultaneously working with an amazing educational developer in our office whose expertise is Indigenization and decolonization. I’m learning a lot from her as we collaborate on a short course we’re developing for instructors on handling difficult conversations with students, whether in class or one-on-one. We’re emphasizing the need to create a safe-space where those difficult conversations can happen and all students feel like they can safely contribute.
This has me thinking about how we can create such safe spaces for students to engage in open pedagogy. We’re asking them to put themselves out there, which for some might be terrifying.
In the book A Guide to Making Open Textbooks With Students, Robin DeRosa and Rajiv Jhangiani ask instructors to consider whether students who may be undocumented can safely take part in an open pedagogy project if it requires them using online tools that may collect information about them. This is a legitimate concern, but I think we need to be thinking more broadly and deeper about whether all of our students feel like they can contribute.
Our institution is trying to move forward with Indigenizing and decolonizing curriculum and teaching methods, and I’ve been thinking a lot about how open pedagogy aligns with some of that work. Ideally open pedagogy invites in many voices to gain many perspectives, but what if some of those voice, the ones who historically have not been heard, and especially not in higher education, don’t feel like they can speak, or try to speak and are shut down by fellow learners or the instructor?
Indigenous students are very often less likely to speak up in class, to ask questions, or seek help from an instructor. They have been taught, either through their own prior educational experience or their parents or other family members experiences in residential schools that they are not allowed to speak up or ask for help. How do we ask them now to not only speak up, but to openly share their knowledge and experiences, keeping in mind that for many Indigenous peoples knowledge must be earned?
How do we create a safe space so that our female students feel comfortable contributing to Wikipedia when so few women’s voices are heard there?
How do we create a safe space so that students for whom English (or whatever language is spoken in class) is not their first language and we’re asking them to contribute in a written form?
How do we create a safe space for the refugee who fears that what they post online may endanger for their family still residing in war-torn countries?
How do we create a safe space for the woman fleeing an abusive relationship?
Open pedagogy opens so many doors to improved engagement, learning, access, and the sharing of many perspectives, but what are we doing to make sure that all of our students feel like they can walk through those doors?