I don’t know Mike Rose, but if you are interested in pedagogy, it is impossible to avoid his work. Once you encounter it, it is impossible to shake its influence. Roth fundamentally believes that learning is a people-oriented endeavor, and that schools and school education are places and opportunities for liberation. For many years, he has tried to write these possibilities into reality. His book, Living on the border: A moving account of the struggles and achievements of under-prepared education in the United States, Possible life: the promise of American public educationA sort of, and Why choose a school? : Re-education for all of us Strong proof Can This happens if we put students on the system.
I only know Rose through his books, but from my Twitter messages, Rose is also a generous friend and mentor of other scholars and teachers, and a model of how to lead others in their careers. Mike Ross, a research professor at the Graduate School of Education at the University of California, Los Angeles, died unexpectedly over the weekend. Obviously, he will be missed, but his works will be circulated among countless scholars and teachers influenced by him. One of them is Rebecca Weaver, who wrote this reflection and memorial. -John Warner
Guest post: In memory of Mike Rose: Inviting students across borders
By Rebecca Weaver
August 16, 2021
Last year, on the first day of school, I wrote the following text in my morning free writing. This is the first day of the full pandemic semester of my school (a two-year admission school within a state university). I will teach three “mixed” courses (a mix of online and face-to-face teaching, and the courses will be divided into groups to attend in turn ) And two fully online courses. I just reread Rose’s life on the border and have been thinking about a sentence from the penultimate chapter of his book:
August 24, 2020: Well, here we are. “We need a pedagogy that encourages us to step back and consider the threat of a standard classroom. This shows us how to step back and invite students to cross that powerful classroom.”
I thought a lot from Rose this morning. He didn’t mean to target the pandemic-he meant all the ways in which standard classrooms threatened first-generation students, poor students, minority students, etc.-but I definitely don’t want to invite students to participate in sports activities in the room today. I have always been anxious about students not wearing masks or having problems outside of their class time. Now it is the anxiety of burning food falling from the stove.
In this case, standard classrooms are classrooms that the country has built over the years and gradually exhausted its resources. It has no heating, AC power or lighting. It exposed wires, mold, bugs and rodents. Leaking and falling ceiling tiles. Now we have a pandemic.
Some other threats to standard classrooms include hidden courses, racism, reduced bandwidth, poor teaching methods (teaching methods designed for old education), and poverty associated with these. Many times, teaching poverty will encounter bandwidth poverty. Our students, especially the poorest students, and the students most threatened by standard classrooms, deserve better treatment.
Soon after I finished writing, I drove into the campus, put on a mask, and walked into my classroom. The social distancing sticker has not been put on the floor or table, and the computer is broken. No students have appeared yet. I took a picture and it seemed to capture everything from that moment and that morning.
This morning, almost a year later, I didn’t feel much better for the school year that was about to begin. I opened the free writing file (I created a new file at the beginning of each school year) and remembered all of this. I remember reading Rose for the first time in graduate school: his work tells me the urgency of human pedagogy in a way that I hardly hear from other people.
I went to my campus office later today and brought supplies and cleaning. The building is very hot-the air conditioner is not working. I dusted off the table and turned on the computer. The first thing I saw on social media was that Rose was dead. I sat for a while, sweating profusely, grief-stricken, thinking how, for so many mentors, friends and colleagues in my compassionate and critical teaching movement, Rose’s work is fundamental and creative. of.
In the years since I first read his work, I have turned to his work time and time again, often teaching him from that book or one of his blog posts about who went to college and why. Lilia”. In a recent conversation on the Pedagogue podcast He said: “Teaching is actually working with someone to develop oneself.” This idea has recently become my guiding ideology because it seems to embrace and include many teaching methods that I cherish. For me last year, in my interactions with students, this idea was the first consideration in those days-somehow, despite wearing masks, pandemic classrooms, video consultations and all the other chaos of trying to go to college, we can Have a real conversation about writing-I would think that maybe, everything is not lost.
Rose’s article on teaching writing is very important to me. When so many students come to university, they are traumatized and confused about what it means to write and communicate with real people. As Rose pointed out in that podcast, this grief does not stop with graduation—many graduate students and professionals carry its scars throughout their educational careers. I included myself in this figure. In my best teaching days, I shared this with my students-it is a very real feeling in the process, in progress, as a writer is still growing. This effort to establish connections is largely inspired by Rose. Her last sentence on the border reminds us not to replace awe with fear, because “it is not fear that promotes learning; it is hope, daily hero, and human The power of the mind working together.”
When we start the new semester, may those of us who are inspired by his work continue to invite students to cross boundaries with awe and hope.