Politics, Pedagogy, and Hope

In the lush heat and thundering skies of late July, stores start rolling out back-to-school sales and school uniform displays, harbingers of the cooler, calmer weather to come. But this summer, the familiar rhythms seem hollow and dispiriting. This summer has been another in a long line of Red Summers, hatred pulsing, searing, erupting in violence that can’t be relieved by summer rain or the promise of the fall. It’s become harder and harder to find respite from the violence in the world.

Yet, in the middle of this summer that feels as if the world is coming apart at the seams, I find myself turning towards my turn in the classroom this fall with renewed energy and, importantly, renewed hope.

A Day for Dalloway

“Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.” So begins Virginia Woolf’s modernist epic, a quieter answer to James Joyce’s boisterous, poly-vocal “Ulysses.” Unlike Joyce and his tome which we celebrate worldwide on Bloomsday (June 16th), Woolf and her entangled narratives are admired, taught, and read the world over but there’s no day dedicated to Clarissa Dalloway’s trek through London.  

Mrs. Dalloway offers a more complicated portrait of life and love than Molly Bloom’s emphatic yes. In 2016, it seems fitting to celebrate a novel that reflects as much darkness as light.

Unruly Spaces and the Internet Syllabus

When you think about the syllabus, you think about policies, contracts, and expectations. The syllabus is a fiction that governs the classroom space, establishing values and expectations for who can be in that space and what that space should look like. Syllabi define what is possible. And, for a long time, the syllabus has remained inside the institutional spaces of the university.

As I’ve imagined my own syllabi for the fall, I’ve found the most urgent and radical syllabus-making is taking place elsewhere.