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Shaking foundations

teaching and learningin the extended studies programme

PG Dip HE final assignment

2014

Corinne Knowles (03k5362)

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“Many things are still painfully difficult in your…system. The pain derives from the forced mutilations, identity destructions, oppressive psychological manipulations that take place each time one functions in your system…First I have to sublimate my frustrations… Next I have to suppress large parts of myself and familiar ways of speaking…Then I have to switch languages and translate my visceral thoughts into cold foreign words that leave out the spirit of my talk…And as if that isn’t enough, I have to swallow my anger, and valiantly find some lessons that I could offer the sea of …faces to let you know that I value you, that you are blameless, and that somehow, I made sense of all these senseless mutilations and appreciate the insight it gave me of myself” (Nkiru Nzegwu in Oyěwùmi 2003:104).

Oyěwùmi, O. (ed) (2003) African Women and Feminism: Reflecting on the Politics of Sisterhood. Africa World Press: Eritrea.

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CONTENTS:

Preface 4

1. Introduction 7

2. Context and Orientation 13

3. Theoretical Leanings 22

4. Teaching and learning 37

5. Assessment 53

6. Curriculum 62

7. Evaluation 71

8. Conclusion 82

9. REFERENCES

10. Appendices: Appendix 1: Teaching and university citizenship activities 90

Appendix 2: Peer reviews 92

Appendix 3: Examples of student feedback 98

Appendix 4: Examples of student’s assessed work 99

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PREFACE

I guess that many of us, who do what we love, do it intuitively at first, guided by some kind of

internally fuelled generative desire; and as we learn our life lessons, this “intuition” is enlightened

and challenged by an informative spiral of experience and reflection. I have found this to be true

with regard to my teaching: understanding why I teach the way I do has been a process of learning

by experience and reflection since my earliest teaching activities as a Sunday school teacher at the

age of 13; and more recently through the PG Dip (HE), exposure to literature which has not only

confirmed fundamental ideas I have about teaching, but also introduced new ways of thinking about

and doing teaching.

Sometimes our life experiences shake the foundations of how we know ourselves, and involve

dramatic shifts in our approaches to life, and perhaps this is what happened to me early on in my

teaching career. I began a process of “rebirth” when my partner died when we were both 29, and I

faced a future with two very young children, uncertain what to do or even who I was without the

man I adored, and whose commitment to a shared future helped to shape who I wanted to become.

I was a teacher-psychologist, teaching English, English Literature and Guidance, which I interrupted

in order to have two children in quick succession, when my partner’s untimely death changed my

life; and in retrospect I realise that until that point, my ideas about life and death and everything in

between, was both sanctified and compromised by a worldview that began and ended within a

religious absolutism that profoundly inhibited how much I could let myself know, or be. I had been

strongly socialised into Christianity as a daughter of fundamentalist missionary parents, which

framed how I saw the world and my place in it. Though my life experiences have brought about an

extreme transformation of my belief system, I retain a strong ethical compass, based on the sincere

belief that my life can have meaning as part of a collective growth towards goodness.

So death, for me, brought about a rare and sudden opportunity and challenge, which I am beginning

to understand from a theoretical perspective: either to be defined (even to myself) as that person

who has lost, so that what and who I lost would always, melancholically, inform who I became; or to

face an uncertain future, unsure of who I was, letting past dreams go, and taking an unsure step at a

time, renegotiating everything I thought I knew up until then. Being so shaken by a death, I found

that all formerly held beliefs and assurances were rendered unstable, and I slowly began to embrace

the uncertainty of not-yet-knowing, taking nothing for granted, but curious (though terrified), and

less attached to a specific outcome. Though I returned to being a teacher-psychologist for nine

years after my partner’s death, it was a journey away from the self I had known, and as much as I

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loved my work, my openness to everything “other” meant that I was a different kind of teacher to

the one I had been, even more deeply interested in the ontology of my students, and exploring other

ways of being myself. By the time I left teaching in 1996 to enter uncertain and largely voluntary

development work, I had also shifted world-views from fierce religion into fierce agnosticism and

political consciousness; and where I consciously parted from many of my normative knowledge

traditions and into an intellectual promiscuity. The epistemological and ontological shock of letting

go, abandoning myself passionately to an uncertain future, provided me with a plunge into chaos,

which is, arguably, the germination for new knowledge, and new ways of being.

I re-entered academic life and teaching at the age of 50 five years ago, and this portfolio reflects

ways in which my experiences and thinking as a teacher now is affected by: a historical contingency;

a physical body with material and psychic connections to my children; and how my intellectual

curiosity has been expanded, confounded and nurtured by the particular university in which I have

taught for five years.

Being at Rhodes (first as a fundraiser in the Development division from 2002-2008, then as a junior

lecturer and MA student from 2009, and progressing to lecturer once my Masters was completed)

has been a process of intellectual awakening, of making sense, theoretically, of our transforming

society. For instance, through my involvement with the Women’s Academic Solidarity Association

(WASA) since 2004, I have come to know myself as a feminist and socialist – terms I barely

understood before coming to Rhodes. Although the development work I engaged in when I left

teaching in 1996 was beautiful, inspiring, educative work, I have begun to understand the vast logic

of development and activism and their trajectories from theoretical perspectives; and this is making

me a better person, a more informed activist, and a more careful developer. Through WASA I

realised that I, too, could study further, and become an academic – and through the support and

nurturing of WASA women, my Master’s supervisor, and friends and colleagues at Rhodes, have

begun to find my academic voice. Similarly, what I have learnt about teaching and learning in the PG

Dip (HE) has opened up the theory of what I have always done intuitively, and this has been a

profound journey of finding my place in a framework that was developed before I arrived, and

continues to urge its norms on how I think and act, as a teacher and learner.

In many ways, submitting to think about my teaching in a framework that is provided by the various

components of the Post Graduate Diploma in Higher Education (PG Dip HE) has been a kind of shock

to my process: it has animated, explained and guided certain aspects of my teaching, leaving some

of the fluid, intuitive and importantly, transformative aspects of my teaching and learning less

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visible, spectral, and slightly illegitimate. Writing this portfolio, selecting what to say and which

aspects of my teaching to submit in order to be recognised as a teacher (the successful completion

of my portfolio also grants me tenure), has meant working to find and understand the norms that

will make me visible as a teacher; and precisely because I regard myself as slightly off-centre, even

marginal to some prevailing norms, I am interested in how these norms are open to change, are

transformable and expandable, in order to include other aspects of myself, my students, and how I

work with knowledge in my teaching and research practices. Writing the portfolio has been a

process of bringing my intuitive and cognitive senses together in an academic framework, in order to

help to explain my choices. And in the shock of submitting, of letting go of other aspects of myself, I

am learning not only how to articulate my story, but also how to emphasise alternative aspects of

the scholarship of teaching and learning and my contribution to it.

This portfolio requires me to use the theory and scholarship of teaching and learning, provided and

suggested in the PG Dip HE, in order to explain, with evidence, why I deserve to be recognised as a

teacher. I am inviting you, the reader, to grapple with me as I try to make theoretical sense of my

actions. I feel that I need to explain up front that for me the most important part of this journey has

been locating myself in a theoretical framework that aligns and coheres with my lived experience,

and that this has not always neatly aligned with the aspects of teaching and learning, nor the

theorists, that we have looked at in the PG Dip HE. Precisely because I have felt that I do not quite

fit, and am uncomfortable with parts of the framework, it has been a productive space of weaving

what I bring, as an individual with unique experiences, into the subjectivity of teaching that is

provided by the norms of teaching at Rhodes University. The portfolio is perhaps weighted towards

theory and narrative, sometimes more figurative than literal, rather than an explicit description of

what I do.

I locate myself as teacher politically: having immersed myself in the political philosophy of Judith

Butler for my Masters degree, I find it has given me a lens with which to understand why I do what I

do, and I would like to share this with you. While I have searched for teaching and learning theorists

who are more aligned to this kind of thinking, there are overlaps with some of the theorists we have

been exposed to in the PG Dip (HE). I am fascinated by the ways in which political, philosophical,

sociological, and pedagogical disciplines are expanded by their proximity to each other, and how

interdisciplinarity has given me a better understanding of what I do, and what I should do, as a

teacher and as a human. My foundations have been shaken, by the death of my partner, by letting

go of religious fundamentalism, by an openness to the transformation of our country since 1994, by

exposure to theory, by learning about feminism, and by teaching in the Extended Studies Unit (ESU).

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Chapter 1: INTRODUCTION

I teach to transform, and am excited by the possibilities for transformation provided by the teaching

encounter. The personal project to contribute to social justice which has guided me in different

forms and genres since my earliest teaching experiences, has increasingly become part of my

ontology or way of being in the world, and teaching, now, for me, is a vehicle, or a location, for this

project. In particular, my teaching in the Extended Studies Unit (ESU) is not only a personal project of

transformation, but also a national and institutional one – the extended programme for selected

first year students is Rhodes University’s version of a national strategy to increase access to those

demographic groups who were previously excluded by apartheid categories of race, class and

gender. It has been described as ‘a vital part of the university’s goal of widening access to include

learners with potential, from a more diverse range of educational, cultural and socio-economic

backgrounds, whose disadvantaged backgrounds may have hindered their school leaving

performance’ (Boughey 2010: 11); and as a programme ‘to ensure access for working class and rural

poor students with potential’ (Badat 2011). Arguably, there are many students in the university

system who fit this description, but who are not placed in the extended studies unit; and this

portfolio also addresses ways in which I have found that teaching practices and curriculum in the

mainstream could transform in order to be more inclusive of the diversity in our classrooms. The

recent important CHE report of the Task Team on Undergraduate Curriculum Structure (2013)

claims that extended programmes ‘have in fact represented the only intervention thus far that has

been designed to offer a systemic solution to the systemic problem of the articulation gap’ between

schooling and university, and ‘[T]heir purpose is thus similar to that of the broader structural reform

that is the subject of [this] report, so experience gained from extended programmes is a key

consideration in the case for modifying the curriculum structure’ (CHE report 2013: 71,72).

I have also taught a module on Feminism1 to Sociology 1 students for the past four years, which runs

concurrently with my ES teaching, and this class of between 400 and 500 students provides a

challenging contrast with which to compare and define my teaching in the ESU (a class of between

23-40). It is also an opportunity to apply lessons I have learnt in the ESU, in mainstream teaching.

I mention in the preface that I am interested in the norms that define teaching, in order to locate

myself within them. The norms that define “good” teaching, and successful learning, are informed

by particular constructions and ideas of what it is to be a student or teacher in specific contexts –

and in my teaching experience, these have differed from my early experiences as a Sunday School

1 For a complete list of teaching activities, as well as other university activities, see Appendix 1

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teacher, to high school teaching, to university teaching. These constructions and ideas infuse the

policies, sanctions, resources, rewards and progress possibilities that frame teaching encounters in

any given institution or discipline. There are teachers and students that exist in the margins of these

constructions, or who perform their off-beat versions of these roles with varying success. Arguably,

their (/our) performances at these edges are sometimes at odds with the intentions and

compulsions of those people or systems that permit, define and reproduce the practices that inform

an institutional learning culture, but they also have the potential to bring about transformation of

that culture.

Furthermore, the norms that define “social justice” and “transformation” are perhaps influenced by

bureaucratic, legal, and numerical indexes and languages, which do not necessarily always recognise

nor predict where, or how, transformation happens in any given institution. A number of authors

have looked at how transformation and social justice occurs or not in university settings (notably,

Soudien’s 2009 Ministerial Report on Progress Towards Transformation and Social Cohesion and the

Elimination of Discrimination in Public Higher Education Institutions deals with the aims of and gaps

in social justice in Higher Education), and have defined and redefined terms and conditions for their

occurrence – and as Furman argues, ‘social justice is an umbrella term with multiple meanings’

(Furman 2012:193). Mary Hobgood supports the claims of Azaransky, for instance, problematising

the idea that ‘the situation of diversity is evidence of justice’ (Hobgood 2007: 191). The fact that

universities, and specifically Rhodes University, fulfil their legal/numerical criteria for increasing

diversity in the student and staff bodies does not necessarily imply that transformation has

happened or that social justice is practiced. Hobgood further claims that ‘[B]eing accountable to the

concrete suffering of students because of the ubiquitous unjust social relations of racism, sexism,

heterosexism, and economic and religious imperialism seems to be on the radar screen of very few’

(ibid: 191). If these unjust social relations exist at our universities, where equity and transformation

goals are entrenched in policies, and specifically at Rhodes University where I teach, how do my/our

teaching and learning policies and practices facilitate inclusion? If I claim (and I do) to teach for

transformation towards social justice, I am compelled to recognise ways in which the university

system at Rhodes University constructs the notion of student or teacher, and learning, in ways that

are not inclusive, and exclude people for reasons other than their potential and enthusiasm to

succeed in the academic project. Tamsin Haggis argues that research into teaching and learning ‘has

constructed a model of student learning which is based upon a set of elite values, attitudes and

epistemologies that make more sense to higher education’s “gatekeepers” than they do to many of

its students’(Haggis 2003: 102). She goes on to address the quality/quantity dilemma associated with

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wider inclusion practices, concluding that ‘[Q]uestions about accessibility and “widening

participation” do not necessarily imply a reduction in standards, or a diluted form of criticality. These

fears emanate from ingrained cultural assumptions that are linked to wider class and social

structures’ (ibid). Arguably, these ingrained cultural assumptions that infuse the standards and

inform the normative framework of criticality have a language with which we define and perpetuate

what social justice is and how it is measured, and the extent to which the university fulfils the

criteria as an institution for public good. This portfolio argues within this critical framework, in order,

potentially, to recognise the “frameworkativity” and therefore, the mutability and transformativity

of norms.

Norms, arguably, inform how we think and act about knowledge in university settings, and are

guided by how the institution understands and operates its purpose and its relationship with its

political, economic, academic and social communities. Epistemological access and integration into

the “knowledge project” (or: working with knowledge; defining knowledge; experiencing knowing),

offered to and supportive of a diverse group, is, I would argue, one key purpose and project of the

university. And yet, there are those who experience the culture and identity frameworks – which

often are the covert gatekeepers for epistemological access - as violent, as dismissive, as rupturing,

even though they have been admitted for the purpose of ‘widening access’ (Boughey 2010:11)and

social justice. Teaching and learning literature, which is the result of research and academic thinking

about knowledge over time, and classroom encounters with it, helps to construct learning norms, as

varied as it is – Kneebone argues that ‘[T]he literature of education, for example, embraces a wide

variety of epistemological positions (Kneebone 2002: 512). So the norms around teaching and

learning are established by various actors over time and space, and inform our classroom encounters

in specific and unique ways (I deal with this in more depth in Chapter 3 and 4). Biggs claims that

‘[T]he teacher’s job is … to support students by aligning teaching methods, assessment tasks, and

classroom climate to acquiring the kinds of skills and kinds of understanding that we want them to

acquire’ (Biggs 2001: 225). In a context of student diversity, this alignment and support of ‘them’

makes assumptions about the kind of ideal student we have in mind.

Of particular interest in my portfolio’s discussion of my teaching practices in the extended

programme of Rhodes University, is the growing crisis of high attrition in universities, where over

half of those who enter university fail to complete their studies (CHE report 2013: 39-53). The CHE

report of the Task Team on Undergraduate Curriculum Structure (2013) notes that ‘attributing

causality’ in high attrition rates in universities ‘is not simple, given the range of dimensions that

affect student performance and that are compounded by the (inherited) racially determined social

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and economic inequalities that continue to characterise South Africa’ (CHE report 2013: 57),

indicating that the norms that define the “ideal student” and even the “ideal teacher” are not only

racially defined, but also complex. I discuss the notions of race in South Africa in more depth in

Chapter 2, and this idea of the complexity of students, which interests me enormously, is unpacked

further in Chapter 4.

In the margins of the norms, where claims are less certain, with less recognition, an important

opportunity is presented: precisely because those who operate in the margins are not quite

recognised, people in these spaces have good reason to doubt the centricity and sanctity of the

prevailing norms. This is where norms are translated, troubled, interpreted, mimicked, critiqued,

expanded, to include a wider diversity of human experience. It is where people are afforded the

uncertain and risky chance to redefine what it means to be student/teacher/human, where

definitions and categories and values clash, overlap, redefine. It is the unpredictable platform for

transformation. In a country and an institution that has been fundamentally influenced by colonial

and apartheid systems, people and ideas, the classroom is a challenging space where transformation

is necessary and complicated, and not always measurable. Judith Butler’s theory, in which I

immersed myself in order to explore gender transformation at Rhodes for my Master’s degree, can

be applied to teaching and learning in meaningful ways here. She contends that ‘the task of the

postcolonial translator…is precisely to bring into relief the non-convergence of discourses so that

one might know the very ruptures of narrativity, the founding violence of an episteme‘(Butler in

Butler, Laclau and Žižek 2000: 37), and this idea has become a kind of leitmotif or principle of my

teaching and thinking. If widening access to include those previously disadvantaged by apartheid

does not also bring about shifts in how we think about knowledge and epistemology in universities,

then arguably, transformation has limited success (Barnett 2004, 2005, 2011; Scott, Yeld and Hendry

2007).

This portfolio is a critical reflection on my experiences of teaching and learning norms, and I am also

hoping that by its nature it addresses ‘the non-convergence of discourses’ and ‘ruptures of

narrativity’ (Butler, ibid) between the norms that inform my teaching encounters at Rhodes

University, and those of my students and of myself that we experience elsewhere and imagine

differently. If transformation for social justice is my purpose, and ‘widening access’ for the purposes

of social justice is the purpose of the Rhodes University extended programme (Boughey 2004, 2010;

Scott, Yeld and Hendry 2007), then how I think about teaching and learning is guided by the bigger

purpose of trying to understand how transformation happens, by critically reflecting on how I

experience norms, and how my students experience norms, in lecture rooms and in life.

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In the light of this complicated normative context, I think of teaching as a political project and

prospect. It is a powerful opportunity to influence the minds and lives of those who will have

influence over the lives of many more. bell hooks famously claimed that ‘[T]he class room remains

the most radical space of possibility’ (hooks 1994: 11), and Peter Mayo asks us to acknowledge ‘the

political nature of all educational interventions’ (Mayo 1999: 24). So while individual teachers have a

variety of reasons why they teach, the teaching/learning encounter is set up in particular ways that

facilitate particular kinds of student and lecturer roles and activities. In part then, I have seen this

portfolio as an opportunity to understand the politics of my teaching at Rhodes: how is it facilitated,

supported, recognised; what counts as disciplinary knowledge, who creates and who reproduces it

for whose benefit; and how power and vulnerability are built into the relationship between

epistemology and ontology at Rhodes and in my classroom.

While the portfolio engages with educational/learning ideas and orientations in the various sections,

my own research interests around transformation and social justice are informed by political

philosophy – especially post-colonial and queer theory, notably Judith Butler’s ideas. In the course of

the PG Dip (HE) I sometimes felt that there was a break between the literature we were exposed to,

and the work of people like Butler, and whether this was real or imagined, I aim to encourage a

conversation between these fields of higher education and political philosophy in how I approach

the portfolio and draw on theorists to legitimate my thinking. Chapter 3, the longest chapter in this

portfolio, deals in some detail with how I have understood and adapted Butler’s ideas in my thinking

about teaching and transformation. It might be more detail than is necessary, but because these

ideas infuse so much of what I do and how I think, I felt it only fair to provide the founding principles

of this.

So an important feature of my scholarly engagement with teaching and learning is that I have not

necessarily embraced all of the literature that I have been exposed to in the PG Dip (HE). I am still

trying to figure out what my resistance is to much of this literature, which is loosely clustered in the

social realism tradition, especially espoused by Basil Bernstein. There are definite overlaps in

Bernstein and Butler’s work, but also important differences. Because I have resisted engaging in

depth with Bernstein though, I have not necessarily critiqued these similarities and differences.

Despite reading and engaging with at least two readings per week for each of the four 14 week

modules (over 100 different readings); despite writing my impressions of many of these readings as

part of my class preparation; and despite our weekly class discussions which unpacked these and

other readings further, I have, in this portfolio, largely used these set readings and class discussions

to find other, different authors and ideas that inspire me, or leaned heavily on those we covered in

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the course that appealed to me. Ironically, Moore notes that ‘Bernstein rarely troubled to locate

himself in relation to contemporary theory’ (Moore 2001: 15) in what Moore depicts as two key

elements of his theory: ‘one, that a theory's 'languages of description' should be able to recognize

what is beyond the theory in order to avoid circularity, and two, the surplus element whereby the

principles of the theory can describe things possible but not empirically realized’ (ibid). Writing this

portfolio has been my attempt to find a theory that not only helps to describe what I do, but also

points to the principles which will apply to my future articulations as a teacher and scholar of

teaching. My aim, on the successful completing of the PG Dip (HE) is to embark on a PhD journey,

also in the field of teaching and learning, and perhaps on that journey I will come to terms with

social realism and what it can offer me and how I can contribute to it as a scholarly teacher. For the

purposes of this portfolio though, I have been fairly selective and perhaps a little subversive in my

selection of texts. This has been an important part of my scholarship, in order to find alignment and

coherence as a human, a teacher, a student and a scholar.

This portfolio will consider my teaching practices in an extended studies class (ES), as well as refer to

the Sociology 1 module on Feminism, in order to demonstrate my thinking around notions of:

teaching and learning (Chapter 4); assessment practices (Chapter 5); curriculum development

(Chapter 6); and teacher evaluation (Chapter 7); in order to provide engagement with some of the

literature in each field, and showing where and how transformation occurs in the boundaries of

norms. But these “chapters” overlap, and the discussions in each have elements of the other chapter

headings infused into their workings. The first of these chapters, Teaching and Learning, especially

sets up the holistic way in which I use the different aspects. My elective is “social inclusion”, and the

context (Chapter 2) and theory (Chapter 3) will demonstrate my engagement with ideas around

social inclusion, which are also infused into the other sections of the portfolio.

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Chapter 2: CONTEXT AND ORIENTATION

A principle which informs my teaching and thinking is that epistemological access, which is an

ongoing challenge and project in higher education settings, is most possible and just when there is

also ontological recognition. In other words, ways of knowing and kinds of knowledge are, arguably,

informed by ways of being, and by those beings (or students, or teachers, or knowers) who produce,

perform and possess knowledge (Barnett, 2005; Dall’Alba and Barnacle 2007). This portfolio argues

that as a principle, the successful implementation of wider inclusion intentions in universities is

enhanced by a focus not only on knowledge, knowledge production and knowledge principles, but

also on the knowers (McKenna 2004, 2013): what kinds of beings are privileged by our teaching and

learning practices, and what kinds of beings, if they were recognised, could and should contribute to

how we think and act about knowledge?

My experiences in the ES Unit (ESU), informed as they are by my other experiences as academic,

activist and citizen in the university community (see Appendix 1), have necessarily been influenced

by notions of race, class and gender et al – identity categories that, as McKenna argues (McKenna

2004), limit or expand the chances for success in the institution. As Ndebele warns in his preface to

the CHE Task Team on Undergraduate Curriculum Structure’s report (2013), ‘high attrition and low

graduation rates have largely neutralised important gains in access’ in universities, pointing to ‘the

resilience of both historical and systemic factors that have combined to put a brake on the

momentum of the desire to craft an undergraduate system that delivers on a demanding

constitutional mandate to achieve a successful post-apartheid society’ (CHE report 2013: 9). I see

these ‘historical and systemic factors’ as the part of the norms that frame teaching and learning, and

include or exclude individuals based on race, gender, class, sexual orientation or other identity

categories . Arguably, teaching for social inclusion and justice under these conditions requires ‘a

radical pedagogy that insists that everyone’s presence is recognised and valued’ as Hill et al claim, in

order to develop and inspire a ‘learning community in which voices are heard and bodies are

recognised’ (Hill et al 1998: 43). This is the challenge and opportunity that is presented by teaching

in ESU.

Post-apartheid challenges around race in SA

Post apartheid South African society, in which national universities are embedded, bears the legacies

of past identity structures and systems, as well as the promise of liberation and equal opportunity

for all. This context has significant impact on how I think about teaching and learning, and

knowledge, and how students experience teaching and learning, in classrooms that house diversities

14

of race, educational background, socio-economic status, and political leanings etc. I am a product of

apartheid education and society, and part of my teaching philosophy necessarily requires the

recognition of my race and class privilege in relation to that of many of my students. Despite the fact

that current first year students, on average, were born around the time of the advent of democracy

in 1994 in South Africa, many of the lecturers and university structures and systems were shaped

and influenced by colonial and apartheid ideologies, which framed how knowledge is defined,

produced and facilitated, and what it is to be human. Those in higher education who share an

enthusiasm for social justice, social inclusion, and transformation, are, I argue, encouraged to make

these frames visible, constantly looking for opportunities to challenge existing frames (including my

own) and facilitate new frames with expanded ideas of what it is to be a teacher or learner.

Much has been written and theorised about racism, apartheid and colonialism, and forms a

backdrop for my thinking about widening access and social justice in South African universities.

Arguably, transformation involves the dismantling of norms which discriminate unfairly, based on

identity categories such as race. Gordon, for instance, argues that in the South African apartheid

regime, ‘whole categories of people were positioned below those who counted most’ (Gordon in

Mngxitama et al 2008: 83) and could make sense of their existences politically, economically, legally,

educationally and socially only through their position as non-being (or non-white in this regime). In

addressing the effects of this kind of racism, Fanon has influenced a number of African writers,

concerned as he was about ‘the paralyzing inferiority complex of blacks and their abject idolization

of whites as their role models’ (in Ranuga 1998: 182). For Fanon it was important to reclaim what

was lost, to revalue cultures and roots which had been fragmented by colonisation, and to find pride

in a way of being dating from before colonialism. For Steve Biko, Fanon’s message was key to

imagining subjectivity in South Africa that was based on a positive (blackness) rather than a negative

(non-whiteness). He saw Black Consciousness as ‘the determination by the blacks to rise and attain

the envisaged self [as an alternative subjectivity]. At the heart of this kind of thinking is the

realisation by the blacks that the most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of

the oppressed’ (Ranuga 1998: 191). While Biko’s careful framing of Black Consciousness was exactly

the ideology which gave the liberation struggle its successful momentum in South Africa, the fact

that subsequent democracy has failed to liberate many from ongoing economic and educational

oppression based on race, points to the need for deeper understandings and wider imaginings of

how power works, and where transformation takes place, and this is a project which not only affects

those who were previously disadvantaged, but also those who were (and are) privileged by the

apartheid system. Arguably, teaching in university is a site of this ongoing struggle for liberation, and

15

deeply affected by the traces of racism, classism and sexism which infuse the ways in which teaching

and learning are performed, and the norms which prescribe them. Both extended studies classes

and sociology classrooms are layered with ideas about race, class and gender, and in order to

facilitate epistemological access in these spaces, it is arguably crucial to recognise these layers in

order to reconfigure the power they have in influencing academic success.

This struggle for liberation is part of an African project of the decolonisation and the deconstruction-

of material and systemic discrimination based on race, class and gender; as well as of that imperial

impulse and epistemology which drove colonisation in the first place: to conquer and enlighten how

Africa knows itself. Feminism, broadly explained as a way of thinking that encourages the equal

human status of all people regardless of gender, race, class etc, has influenced profoundly how I

think and live my politics, including in teaching and learning. Simi Afonja, an African feminist, in her

critique of development in Africa, suggests that there are a number of alternative models for

thinking about and in Africa, including one where African feminists ‘are challenged not just to

produce knowledge that reflects African realities but also to alter the epistemological basis of

knowledge production. African feminists perceive the appropriation of knowledge as an integral part

of colonization and that its epistemologies can only be changed through radical feminist scholarship’

(Afonja 2005: no page numbers). For many African feminists and gender activists, part of the

responsibility of scholarship is to address what it is that counts as knowledge, and who decides on

that (Oyěwùmi 2004; Kisiang’ani 2004; et al), and this inspires how I teach (as a feminist) ESU and

Sociology 1 students, and how I approach this portfolio. So part of a feminist, post-colonial project of

the academy is to challenge and subvert epistemologies that limit how we know and what we know,

and that is based on imperial authority that fails to recognise other kinds of legitimate knowledge

and knowers. As I will describe in more detail in Chapter 4, this is what I try to do in ES classes, that

are spaces where we can critique the knowledge projects of Sociology 1 and Politics 1; and also in

the feminism module I have taught, where we look at feminism from an African perspective and find

its relevance in our current realities. Hanan Alexander, in describing a quartet of theories in order to

understand agency (a term which I unpack in more detail in Chapter 3) argues that ‘epistemological

ideas such as truth and knowledge and moral ideas such as right and wrong have no “objective”

basis outside of the power interests they serve,’ (Alexander 2005:357)according to a Marxist

understanding, and that ‘the task of critical pedagogy… is to expose the hidden tools of oppression

utilized by those in power so that students can embrace more authentic ideologies that reflect their

own cultural, social, and political interests’. She goes on to claim that ‘Neo-Marxist analysis assumes

that all education is ideological. The question is not whether but which ideology to inculcate’ (ibid).

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Arguably, universities have a crucial role to play in the recognition and deconstruction of race, class

and gender (et al) oppressions and systemic ideologies, and in the re-configuration of society as

more inclusive and just. This reflection on my teaching has compelled me to expand how I think

about teaching, and knowing, by mimicking and subverting a normative framework which legitimises

certain aspects of teaching, but translating this framework in order to perform a slightly different

version of teacher. South African universities function within a particular context which could

facilitate or inhibit transformation, and this portfolio aims to highlight ways in which transformation

is possible in a feminist classroom.

Feminist ideas around classrooms in post-apartheid education

Mary Hobgood argues that feminist classrooms are spaces that focus on ‘critical analysis of the

outside world’ and ‘students’ deepening connections to their embodied selves’ (Hobgood 2007:

190). So where the context of the outside world is the ongoing post-apartheid struggles of race, class

and gender, and where students embody these identity hierarchies, then extended studies classes

and Sociology 1 and Politics 1 classes are not only important for their disciplinary content, but they

could provide tools to live – in and outside the classroom. Importantly, students in my classes are

encouraged to embody their engagement with the concepts and knowledge that the lectures

provide, as will be explained in Chapter 4. Ontological concerns are recognised and incorporated into

learning. Sioux McKenna argues that ‘identities are sites of struggle where individuals use their

agency to take on certain discourses or to resist them’ (McKenna 2004:269). Arguably then, a

feminist classroom makes the discourses visible, and, as Hobgood claims, ‘the power of feminist

pedagogy lies in its ability to explore personal identity and moral agency in the context of a world

that normalises unjust behaviour’ (Hobgood ibid). So where unjust power relations between races,

classes and genders, and between the powerful and the vulnerable, are normalised in South African

and university environments, McKenna’s and Hobgood’s ideas have particular relevance in my

classroom which aims to reduce and recognise and reconfigure unjust power relations between

knowers and knowledges.

Zembylas (2005), in his discussion on emotion (which, arguably, is an ontological concern)as an

overlooked aspect of teaching and learning, defines emotional labour, which is often invisible or

unrecognised, as the effort required to ‘maintain[ing] “survival” against conflicting goals’. I find this

is particularly relevant where an institution or discipline has values or practices that are either at

odds with those of some students and teachers, or which render important aspects of them invisible

and unrecognisable. He claims that ‘[E]motional labor at a school or in a classroom is not easily

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identified or recognized, mainly because emotional rules are disguised as ethical codes, professional

techniques and specialized pedagogical knowledge’ (Zembylas 2005: 476). Providing access to

students via extended studies, and into other programmes, without acknowledging unjust social

relations, arguably tangles ideas of transformation in specific ethical codes and practices of

inclusion, while hiding the fact that many students (and teachers) do not feel at home or acceptable

in a normative framework that remains rigidly exclusive and discriminatory in places. Further

research will show whether and how this is in fact true at Rhodes University, but this portfolio hopes

to demonstrate that unjust social relations are very much on the radar screen in some classrooms at

Rhodes, and that a dynamic relationship between epistemology and ontology, as well as a

reconfiguration of power and vulnerability, brings possibilities for real transformation. The

emotional labours required in order to teach, and learn, are recognised as essential components in

the encounter if students are to be transformed from supermarket-style knowledge shoppers

(Boughey in RU Learning Guide: 5), to producers of knowledge as lifelong learners.

Introducing ideas around vulnerability

Extended studies students, part of the focus of this portfolio, have been identified and constructed

as “students at risk”, or a vulnerable group, in the university, in the common discourses around the

ESU. As in society at large, in universities this identity category of “vulnerable” or “at risk”

entrenches both the site of oppression, and potential transformation. Zembylas argues that

‘vulnerability provides the turbulent ground on which to negotiate truths (e.g. new emotional rules

that are less oppressive) that is a necessary foundation of transformation’ (Zembylas 2005:480). The

recognition of a particular identity group, deserving of specific strategies to stimulate their progress

(such as funding for an extended studies programme and dedicated lecturer for “disadvantaged”

students), is only the start of a transformation process, and arguably, the very identity category must

be open to expansion in order to bring about substantive change. For “vulnerability” to be sheltered

and supported, it not only needs structures in place to provide support, it also needs the idea, the

concept of vulnerability itself, to be transformed. This can happen in a number of ways, as will be

shown in this portfolio. Brenda Liebowitz suggests that ‘The kind of confidence required to be open

and vulnerable might need to be cultivated via exploration of issues of self and difference, within the

curriculum or via action research projects’ (Liebowitz 2010: 93).ES classrooms are ideal platforms for

cultivating vulnerability and openness, that is sometimes at odds with the values and habits and

curricula of mainstream academia (as I will explain in more detail in Chapter 4). Universities are

encouraged to be part of transformation through social responsibility agendas as institutions for the

‘public good’ (Badat and Singh in Higher Education Discussion Series: 2001), and as such, universities

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either reproduce narrow equity targets, or embrace the idea of ensuring that university facilitates

social justice as a fluid, integral infusion into everything it does, including teaching and learning, as a

public good. Feminism, as a theory and movement, aims to show the connection between ‘public’

and private, and provides a lens through which to regard the private spaces of individual lecture

rooms, and individual responses and narratives, in order to contribute to a ‘public good’ of inspiring

social justice and practising social inclusion in universities.

Being defined as an extended studies student at Rhodes assumes a status of vulnerability, but how is

“vulnerability” defined and understood? The category of “student” has normative boundaries, and

extended studies students find themselves at the boundaries of these norms – for instance, their

degree for their first two years is called BAF (Bachelor of Arts Foundation) – and until recently their

names on their residence doors included this abbreviation, leading them to have to explain to their

fellow residents what kind of degree they were doing; and the responses of other students to this

status led to an increased sense that they were not quite BA students. Vulnerability, then, is part of

their non-student-ness, associated with an absence of, or the need to develop, student-ness.

Transformation aspirations which define strategies and interventions to assist these students to

equitable status should surely and inherently destabilise and subvert the prevailing norms to explore

the possibilities of expanding the norms to be more inclusive. But in doing so, the process of

achieving these aspirations could also be seen as creating vulnerability, by naming and locating it in

specific ways. Transformation happens, arguably, when we reconfigure vulnerability itself, when we

recognise it, acknowledge it, and incorporate it into how we reframe who we are and can become.

This can happen anywhere where identity categories are felt to be oppressive or dismissed or

marginalised, because it is in the resistance to limiting categories, in the acknowledgement that

individuals in that category have different notions of who they are and how they could be, that

opportunities are found to renegotiate meanings and expand norms.

Disrupting the norms

I have come to understand the university as a site where norms regarding epistemology and

ontology are troubled. Universities are platforms where it is possible to influence powerfully how

people understand and live their lives, as hooks claims (hooks 1994). Teaching, then, for me, is a

rare opportunity and responsibility for teachers who are inspired by social justice in post-apartheid

South Africa, as ‘[T]eaching becomes a way of questioning power dynamics and social structures that

exist both within and outside of the classroom’ (Wangren and Sellberg 2012: 543).

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The institutional culture which facilitates the conditions for academic and intellectual engagement

has shaped and has been shaped by Rhodes lecturers and students in particular ways over its 107

years. How we devise curricula, how we teach, the resources we provide, how many students are in

the class, the design of the classroom, the availability of technological support, who teaches,

admission policies etc are all manifestations and consequences of the politics of institutions – the

state, as well as individual universities, and I am interested in the power and politics that shape

individual experiences of the university. There are those who do not find that Rhodes is a “home for

all”, precisely because the culture which has been shaped over time has not necessarily included

them in its configuration. Gcobani Qambela notes that ‘[T]his is something many black Rhodes

alumna have been saying for years (myself included) for we know Rhodes is not a home to all. We

also know the violent silencing that often occurs at predominantly white institutions of higher

learning in SA, the “Ivory towers of white supremacy” ’ (Qambela 2014)

Rhodes University approaches transformational teaching and goals in a number of ways, two of

which inform the site of this study. The first deals with the transformational goal of providing wider

access to “previously disadvantaged” students through an extended studies programme already

mentioned. The second approach to transformational teaching goals considered in this study is the

way in which teachers at Rhodes are encouraged to think about issues of transformation in a variety

of ways, including: teaching and learning policies which note ‘[E]quity and redress are issues that

need to be accommodated in the curriculum’ (Rhodes Teaching and Learning policies: 2) and

including an evaluation policy, which encourages critical engagement of others (peers and students)

in order to improve one’s teaching (Rhodes Teaching and Learning policies: 4-9).; a Teaching and

Learning committee, reporting to Faculty and Senate committees, which has as a standing agenda

item “Transformational issues”; the PG Dip (HE) which lecturers are encouraged to complete, and

which includes a module on assessment (presented as a shorter course: the Assessors Course),

completion of which is especially encouraged by faculty for promotion purposes; and a great deal of

freedom on the part of lecturers themselves to decide on their curricula, including methods of

teaching and assessment.

The norms that inform teaching and learning, and transformation

As I have argued, transformation as a national strategy in South African and at Rhodes has a

discourse of policies, targets, protocols, accountability structures and equity plans. These

articulations and instruments aim to guide and monitor progress towards, amongst other things

(such as economic viability), a more inclusive and just university system, particularly in addressing

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apartheid legacies of discrimination, exclusion and privilege. They include the Department of

Labour’s Equity requirements; National Student Financial Aid Services conditions; the Constitution;

the South African Quality Assurance Framework, and similar instruments for guiding and evaluating

teaching practice; the Department of Higher Education’s transformation agendas, policies and

funding requirements; and individual institutions’ broad and particular social responsibility agendas.

They could be seen as the norms, which, according to Judith Butler, govern how people know

themselves in an institution (Butler 2004: 23), in other words the specific rewarding or punitive

practices and sanctions that shape what people are expected to be and encouraged to be in an

institution. Zooming closer into the lecture room, these norms are translated and practiced as the

codes, practices, curricula and cultures which are embedded in teaching and learning practices and

protocols in departments, disciplines and universities, including, for instance, teaching portfolio

protocols. Boughey calls for ‘the development of a critical consciousness’ with regard to teaching

and learning (et al) in order to find ‘the voices needed to ensure that the transformation of South

African higher education is indeed fitting to the new democracy’ (Boughey 2007:16), acknowledging

the essentially political role of the university in transforming society and itself. She makes this call at

the end of a discussion which explores the history and emergence of ‘capitalist expansion’ and

‘social reproduction’ aims in educational development in South Africa, where there is sometimes a

contradictory, and arguably unpredictable space between norms and performances (ibid: 5-18). The

norms which guide academic life in a university are, arguably, not always clearly announced, are

often lost behind obfuscating jargon, are caught in nets of bureaucracy which limit how much any

one part of the process understands the whole, and form part of a discourse which could entrench

oppressive power configurations despite the progressive aspirations of a transformation agenda.

This portfolio is a contribution to a developing critical consciousness which tries to look beyond the

actual framework into the frameworkativity – in other words, acknowledging that educational and

transformative encounters happen in a sometimes disruptive space between norms and

subjectivities, and are significant for predicting, understanding or strategising transformation. While

Boughey leaves off wondering whether a capitalist expansion purpose is necessarily a bad thing

(ibid:15), this portfolio suggests that it is not the only thing.

Transformation, in order to bring about ontological and epistemological inclusion, is more than the

norms which shape an institution or a lecture room. It is also a process, hard to predict or measure

quantitatively. It doesn’t necessarily or only follow transformation strategies and policies.

Transformation happens, arguably, when conditions in a specific context provide a platform for

people to change how they think about themselves, how they articulate themselves, and how the

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university adjusts to accommodate a more inclusive range of individuals. It happens in the way in

which individuals and groups engage agentially with the norms which govern them; it happens as a

result of events, individuals, relationships and other random, unpredictable moments of

enlightenment. It happens when norms and subjectivities are expanded through particular kinds of

performance.

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Chapter 3: THEORETICAL LEANINGS

My thinking about teaching and learning, epistemology and ontology, power and vulnerability, has

been strongly influenced by a number of theorists, particularly the work of Judith Butler.

The starting point for my thinking is that regardless of how or why we do this, human beings

experience and imagine themselves in relation to each other. It is in these relations to each other

that we find or lose our sense of selves and our meaning in the world. The relations we have with

each other have the capacity to bring about profound transformations, and Butler’s theory helps to

illuminate how this can happen. But our circumstances of relating are often fraught with

misunderstanding and various kinds of violence. As Butler admits, `[L]et’s face it. We’re undone by

each other. And if we’re not, we’re missing something’ (Butler 2004:23). Her theory explains how

we do/undo each other, and how we can build the conditions for more liveable relations, for

instance in the teaching encounter in universities.

As argued, in teaching and learning encounters people have the capacity to influence each other in

significant ways. It is with this in mind that I engage with aspects of Butler’s theory, in order to

construct a theoretical lens through which to find, understand and predict transformational

moments in the relationships between me and my students, and between knowledge and knowers.

Butler’s early work problematised our constructions of gender and the foundations of identity

formation in the relationships between particular ideas about, and experiences of, gender. Drawing

on a host of earlier theorists(for more details, see Salih 2002: 7), Butler considers that gender is an

identity category which society constructs and applies (through state, family, culture, media,

education and other institutions), based on information and beliefs which are consolidated through

numerous daily acts that acquire a historicity (Salih 2002: 10). As Salih points out about Butler, ‘[H]er

theories effectively reveal the “contingent foundations” of all identity categories’ (ibid: 141,

emphasis added), and I use her theory to understand how teacher and learner, knowledge and

knower identities form and are formed by each other, and how this can shift the structure which

shapes them. There are overlaps between Butler’s theory and educational theorists who consider

how the relationships between students, lecturers and knowledge are conceived, constructed and

experienced (for example Barnett (2005 et al); Northedge (2005); hooks (1998 et al); Freire (1994);

Mayo (2005); et al) and connections will be made between some of these as they apply in this study.

The study asks for the recognition of slightly different ways of knowing and being, and resonates

with Butler’s claim that ‘to ask for recognition, or to offer it, is precisely not to ask for recognition for

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what one already is. It is to solicit a becoming, to petition the future always in relation to the other’

(Butler 2004:44).

The terms subjectivity, normativity and performativity are components of Butler’s theory which have

relevance here. In this schema, applied to the conditions of teacher and learner identity formation,

a subject (or teacher/learner identity possibilities) forms and is recognised through an interplay

between an individual, the norms which frame experiences, and how she translates these norms in

order to perform the roles which make her recognisable in a specific context.

As she (or he/ you/ I/they/we) enact or perform anticipated acts assigned by a specific normative

framework, a subject comes into being, is given a face, becomes part of a legitimate category within

a framework which has been established by many specific acts over time (see Lloyd 2007:107-133;

Butler 2004b:159). Our daily lives have overlapping, multiple subject possibilities, and as we relate to

each other in specific contexts (for instance a university, or a classroom), specific norms determine

which aspects of ourselves are rendered visible in that encounter or relationship. Arguably though,

when our performances of how we translate these norms (which is influenced by previous

experiences in other encounters over time) trouble, or destabilise these norms, transformation of

some sort is possible. This transformativity is the exciting possibility whenever norms refuse to

accommodate and recognise some individuals, and these individuals refuse to be invisible. For

whatever political, social or economic reason, the norms which govern our beings in the world

always exclude some, and our progress on a social justice continuum is determined by how well

these norms adapt to become inclusive of a wider range of subjects. As Butler argues, our

‘established conventions’ are not ever broad enough to nurture all versions of individual within any

one culture, let alone between cultures, and they should be ‘expanded to become more inclusive

and more responsive to the full range of cultural populations’ (Butler 2004c: 224). In the context of

the university, where norms necessarily exclude some and reward others, our challenge is to find

where the moments of normative discomfit occur, in order to see how norms and subjects are

affected and effected. As I have previously mentioned, Butler argues that ‘the task of the

postcolonial translator…is precisely to bring into relief the non-convergence of discourses so that

one might know the very ruptures of narrativity, the founding violence of an episteme‘(Butler in

Butler, Laclau and Žižek 2000: 37). This is an invitation to scrutinise particular teaching and learning

encounters, in order to ensure that the intentions of these, their theoretical influences, their

practices, the assessments, their organisation and their evaluation, work together to bring about

progressive kinds of transformation of norms and of subjects, of knowledge and of knowers. Steeped

as they are in a legacy of imperialism, colonialism and apartheid, universities in South Africa are not

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exempt from practices which unfairly discriminate, which oppress, and which do violence; they also

present opportunities for us to frame humanity with more humaneness, and consequently provide a

wider, richer epistemology. In the sections which follow, I unpack the notions of subjectivity,

normativity, performativity and transformativity, in order to see how aspects of the theory apply in

my teaching and in how I think about my students.

Subjectivity

In the ES programme, students are selected using a set of criteria which include education and family

backgrounds, and previous performance. Because these criteria are aimed at widening access to a

more diverse range of students, the group is made up of those from rural, urban and peri-urban

areas; who have been to private, rural and public schools; and who are from a range of first-

language groups. Roughly 75% of these students will continue into 2nd year. The Sociology 1 class

(to whom I teach the module on feminism) is equally diverse, and in addition includes those who are

high achievers, extremely privileged, and from a variety of countries. About a quarter of these

students will not pass Sociology 1, and half of them will drop the subject after first year. A minority

of students are picking up the subject as“filler” in 2nd or 3rd year. Also a minority are students who

are considerably older than the average age of about 19 years. Both student groups, then, house

people from a variety of backgrounds, with multiple histories, different aspirations, and varied

intentions for their study. Each of them becomes visible as a student-subject by complying with set

norms in order to be legitimated and celebrated as a student. The norms which animate this subject

will be discussed in the next section, but they are the formal and informal, obvious and hidden

agendas, expectations and assumptions which frame who the university recognises as a student.

“Student” is one kind of subject possibility available to the individuals who enrol at Rhodes

University.

In this way of thinking, an individual has multiple subject possibilities – in other words, on any given

day, we perform various versions of ourselves in different settings. These performances are staged

and governed by norms which we perpetuate by our performances. Some of these subject

possibilities are embodied and have cultural significance which affects all other subject possibilities –

race and gender are arguably such. As Butler notes, ‘[T]he act that one does, the act that one

performs, is, in a sense, an act that has been going on before one arrived on the scene’ (Butler in Bial

2004b: 160). So, as an individual progresses through her day or life, she is potentially required to

switch identities, shift positions, compromise values, as she relates to different people in different

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contexts. This multiplicity of subject possibilities, housed in a variety of individuals, can be seen as

subjectivity, or subject-hood, which is part of who anyone is.

Normativity

Norms are those conventions which determine who we can be in particular settings. They are the

notions which socialise us into subject-hood in a particular context. Without the norms, there would

be no specific subject-hood, no positive or negative sanctions which construct identities. The idea of

norms applies when there is a specific kind of identity construction which has political, social or

economic weight. So for instance, if we consider the notions of race and gender, compared to the

notion of left-handedness, we know that the embodiment of race and gender has particular political,

social and economic currency and value in our social world, in ways that left-handedness does not.

In South Africa today, it does not necessarily matter if one is left-handed or right-handed. It may

have material significance (using a pair of scissors, which is made for right-handed people, is tricky

for left-handed people for instance), but it does not necessarily influence how we relate to each

other socially, professionally, or politically. So norms operate in identity formation when identity

assumes a cultural and political significance. Indigenous, colonial and apartheid histories in South

Africa have established norms around race, class and gender which have influenced the collective

understandings of what it means to be ”black” or “female” or “poor”. At Rhodes University, where

norms have been established since 1904, and located as it is in a “frontier” town, there are race and

class and gender norms which influence the kinds of experience that students have.

A social justice agenda, whether in national policies or in an institution’s practice, requires the

establishment of norms which are inclusive, accessible and legitimising for a diverse range of people

(Scott, Yeld and Hendry: 2007). Butler urges that ’the necessity of keeping our notion of “human”

open to a future articulation is essential to the project of a critical international human rights

discourse and politics’ (Butler 2004c: 222), reminding us that the normative frameworks which we

currently facilitate and perpetuate have traction in a future that will be produced by, and reproduce,

what we establish today. So normativity refers to the multiple normative settings into which we

wander as we live our daily lives.

In Butler’s theory, while norms are fairly stable, in that they are established over time through

multiple acts, they can be destabilised. The advent of democracy in South Africa, for instance,

destabilised norms which had been enforced for centuries, and the new government, as well as civil

society, has, in effect, been engaged in a process of reconfiguring the norms which should, could,

and do govern our lives.

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I understand that norms, however, are not necessarily or only the policies that guide civil life, the

laws which enforce them, or the practices by which people access, subvert or implement them.

Norms do not only allude to the structures (such as politics, education, religion, culture) which shape

our lives. They are established on macro and micro levels, as people relate to each other in different

settings. While norms assume a fixedness, they evolve or are suddenly transformed because they

exist only as people and subjects relate to them, and to each other, and thus are open to the variety

of configurations of what it is to be human in this world.

Because I teach in the ESU, which is separate from but part of the university’s mainstream offerings,

the norms that I establish in my classroom can be different from those in a mainstream class. For

instance, when I attend the Politics 1 class with my students, we are encouraged to arrive on time,

and in fact some lecturers refuse entry to those who arrive late. In my ES classes, this norm can be

negotiated to suit me and my students. I have a smaller class than my mainstream colleagues, and I

am interested in each individual – which means that I will give them the benefit of the doubt when it

comes to arriving late – sometimes I will make a comment, but mostly, I carry on with what I am

doing with the class without making too much of lateness. One year, the members of the class told

me that they were not happy with the fact that some people arrived late. We discussed this, and I

admitted that I would find it really difficult to exclude someone from my class, because they might

well have a good reason on that day for not making it on time. But some class members argued that

everyone should make the same effort to get there in good time. Between us, we decided that one

of the young men, who felt particularly strongly about it, and with the support of the class members,

would police the door. He locked the door once the class had started, and if anyone came late, he

would go to the door to find out if they had a good reason for being late. The system worked well for

a while, and then fell away as all students began to make the effort to be on time. This is an example

of how norms can shift through mutual negotiation between those who share a subjectivity, and

that subjectivity implies a mutual recognition, as well as an individual translation, of the prevailing

norms. Not everyone understands or recognises the norms in the same way (for example, the norm

of arriving on time was not as crucial to me as it was to some class members, because we viewed

lateness differently – particular students viewed lateness as a lack of effort, and I regarded lateness

as someone having a good reason not to be on time). So norms are established over time, and

operate when a subject recognises them and is recognised by them. The subject could be said to

“perform” what it perceives to be the norms of a particular context.

Performativity

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Performance, in Butler’s theory, refers to the acting out of the relationship between an individual

and the norms which define her subject-hood in a given context. To explain this “acting out” using

the category of “gender” as an example: Butler maintains that a man dressing in drag is no more or

less of a performance than a man dressing as a man or a woman as a woman (Butler in Salih with

Butler 2004: 254). She uses this example to trouble the idea of one gender as a fixed, cohesive

category. She argues that ‘in imitating gender, drag implicitly reveals the imitative structure of

gender itself – as well as its contingency’ (Butler 1999: 187). So gender is an identity category,

governed by norms which are established over time, and performed by subjects in various ways.

Butler goes on to argue, ‘the societal norms that work on the subject to produce its desires and

restrict its operation do not operate unilaterally. They are not simply imposed and internalised in a

given form’ (Butler in Butler in Butler, Laclau and Žižek 2000: 151). We are active participants in this

performance, and our agency is set up the moment we seek to be recognised as subject. The norms

are not universal, but are shaped to suit a specific context and culture. Because there are a wide

range of cultures, Butler argues that ‘the very concept of universality compels an understanding of

culture as a relation of exchange and a task of translation’ (ibid: 23) or even ‘a set of translations into

the various rhetorical and cultural contexts in which the meaning and force of universal claims are

made’ (ibid 35). In any given classroom, a diversity of individuals from a range of cultures all engage

with the norms of teaching and learning. Using Butler’s logic, the idea of what it is to be a student or

a teacher, as a “universal” notion, will undergo cultural translations, and could be performed in a

variety of ways. Here Butler’s work evokes the thinking of Homi K.Bhabha on the subject. Bhabha

abstracts the notion of culture, to show that the effects of colonisation bring about destabilisation of

cultural identities. He developed the ideas of ‘hybridity’ and ‘cultural translation’ to explain that in

the cultural meetings of coloniser and colonised, the colonised both desires and resists the

coloniser’s culture, and translates the coloniser’s cultural norms to mimic (or mock) the culture of

the coloniser, sometimes essential in order to survive and be recognised by the coloniser (Hubbard

et al 2011: 69-75). This mimicry has overlaps with Butler’s performativity. The way an individual

perceives and translates the norms which construct a particular kind of subject-hood could be

different from how the norms have been intended by those who have established them over time.

One individual might perform any number of subject-hoods in a variety of normative settings on a

daily basis. So a student who arrives late, or does not arrive at all, could be said to be performing

their student-subjectivity in a way that will lead to a lack of recognition as a student – if they miss

more than 25% of classes, they lose their DP (Duly Performed certificate), and might be excluded.

But if, for instance, a student is also the son of an alcoholic mother, with an abusive step-father,

both of whom undermine his motivation to be a good student, he might miss class because he is

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working in construction, building RDP houses on the side, in order to earn money to gain

independence from his parents in order to be a good student (this is an actual example of one of my

students). While his lateness or absence is construed as a lack of interest and leads to losing his DP,

in fact his performance of the norms were much more complex, and involved multiple subjectivities

where he was having to make difficult choices in order to be recognised as a student.

Performativity, then, is this possibility of multiple compelled performances by individuals as they live

their daily lives.

Transformativity2

In a conversation with Žižek and Laclau, Butler asserts that ‘[P]ower is not stable or static but is

remade at various junctures within everyday life’ (Butler in Butler, Laclau, Žižek 2000: 14). The three

philosophers exchange questions and answers around the issue of contingency, hegemony and

universality at a time of post structuralism, post colonialism and post psychoanalysis. While the

framework of the project limited the debate to specific philosophical conundrums, Butler’s

arguments around transformation are clearly defined here for exploration in this portfolio.

In a learning encounter that facilitates engaged teaching and learning, I believe that there must be a

navigation of power relationships. Mayo argues that power structures can be challenged by

changing ‘social relations that give rise to it’, and that ‘educational initiatives, complimented by

similar initiatives in other sites of social practice, can make an important contribution in this regard’

(Mayo 2003:45). This suggests that an important aspect of a meaningful teaching and learning

encounter requires that I recognise and challenge power and vulnerability constructs, in order to

increase the range of subjectivities, which inform norms, and permit performances. In order to

facilitate this process, as lecturer, I must acknowledge the dialectic between the teacher and

student, loaded as it is with power. Paulo Freire claims that the aim of education is a ‘drive towards

reconciliation’ and that it ‘must begin with the solution of the teacher-student contradiction’ (Freire

1970: 53). Where teachers are constructed as powerful, in deciding what counts as knowledge, and

who are visible as knowers (which takes on a “universal” quality in the institution), it takes careful

work to shift and expand the normative frameworks for teaching and learning.

2 This concept was first argued in my Master’s thesis: Transformativity: recognising melancholic power, and renegotiating vulnerability (2011) and portions of this section are adaptations or adoptions from the thesis (p36-38).

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The notion of universality, as debated by Butler, Laclau and Žižek, is key to a human rights or social

justice discourse. But who determines the definitions and trajectories of social justice, and what

shape of human does it include and exclude? Given that specific contexts have particular

interpretations and translations of what is considered universal, South Africa’s Constitution and

Rhodes’ equity and teaching and learning policies are not necessarily the only norms governing their

communities. Each subject, based on individual histories, beliefs and communities, will translate

these and/or live these differently, and have different epistemological access to them. Žižek sums

up Butler’s argument by making a distinction between ‘on the one hand, the “dead”, “abstract”

universality of an ideological notion with fixed inclusions/exclusions and, on the other, “living”,

“concrete” universality as the permanent process of questioning and renegotiation of its own

“official” content’ ( Žižek in Butler, Laclau, Žižek 2000: 102). Building on her assertion, he goes on to

recommend that progressive politics should undermine and exploit this possibility, and ‘should

precisely openly practise performative contradiction, asserting on behalf of the given universality the

very content this universality (in its hegemonic form) excludes’ (ibid: 103). One of the ways then that

transformativity is triggered is by problematising universality, always seeking to recognise that

norms can be contested and negotiated, translated and adapted.

Before examining how further moments within this schema open up to transformation, it is

important to consider the role of agency in providing individuals with the choice to perform roles

differently or to exploit these moments. According to Butler, agency is set up as soon as a subject is

recognised – it is a product and process of the subject-norm relationship. Lloyd notes that Butler’s

theory dismantles a transformative role of agency, because, for her, ‘agency is not related to a

theory of the self but is an effect of the operations of discourse- power through which subjects are

produced’ (Lloyd 2005:107). Lloyd suggests that transformative change is not guaranteed by Butler’s

definition of agency, but her broader theory gives us opportunities to find conditions that ‘bring

about alterations in the systems of domination that structure the world’ (ibid). Shireen Hassim, in

considering the role of women and feminism in South African political mobilisation, agrees that ‘the

task of feminism is to examine the particular ways in which power operates within and between the

political, social and economic spheres of specific societies – in effect, this is a political project of

transformation’ (Hassim 2004:3). Both of these scholars imply that it is the power particularities of

the relationships which are important rather than the sense of “agency” one individual or group

might have within it. For Butler, agency, as an operational effect of particular politics embedded in

the conditions of constructed subjectivities, is seen to be part of the power and domination

discourse, and not a condition to be attained in order for transformation to happen (Lloyd 2005:95).

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I like the idea that the teacher-learner encounter is, as Freire claims, the joint responsibility of

teacher and learner (Freire 1970:61). This assumes that there is agency associated with being a

teacher and being a learner. Butler‘s understanding of agency is that it is a constituent part of a

power relationship, such as teaching and learning, where, perhaps, a “passive” or “unresponsive”

learner is the manifestation of a particular relationship, internally or psychically, and externally or

structurally, between subjects and norms. There is a dynamic and unstable relationship between a

particular subject and her normative framework, and it is this relationship – both psychic and

material, that produces her performance.

According to this framework then, the teaching and learning encounter is one in which both learner

and teacher have agency, which is set up precisely because one seeks to be recognised as a teacher

or as a learner. That agency is brought into being by the particular dynamic between teacher and

learner which is set up by, first of all, how each experiences her own subjectivity. The teaching and

learning encounter is not only about knowledge work – or working with knowledge, content, facts,

set curricula, and working towards understanding these in context. Each teacher can decide how to

engage with the knowledge she teaches and co-produces in the encounter. As a teacher, when I

engage with what it is I want to teach, how I will teach it, and how I will assess it, I exercise

ontological agency in asking to be recognised as a particular kind of teacher. I am not merely

performing a role – I choose to portray aspects of myself, in an effort to engage my students in a

story, in concepts, in theory. So while there are norms which unconsciously define who I can be and

what I will teach, within that normative framework is a range of behaviours, examples, perspectives,

alignments that are available to me, and that I bring to the encounter. My performance is based on

the relationship between my subjectivity as a teacher and the norms that frame “teaching” in my

university. A number of factors could affect the performance, and these factors are to do with the

knowledge with which I work, as well as the self that works with the knowledge. The longer I teach,

and the more reflectively I teach, the more knowledgeable I am about how this knowledge will be

taken up by my students, and what to expect from them and myself as I engage in teaching. The

more reflexive I am (Haggis 2003:102; Penn 1997: 219), arguably, the more willing I am to adapt my

teaching to who my students are and become, in order to ensure that they engage with and co-

produce knowledge. So the norms which frame my knowledge field and teaching provide me with a

space to exercise who I want to be in that setting. Similarly, a student has a variety of possible

performances of their roles, and agency is expressed as part of a dynamic between students and

lecturers, which are part of the normative framework of teaching and learning in any given context.

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So notwithstanding the constructedness of agency, I argue that it is possible for vulnerable

individuals to be “agents” of transformation. As I have discussed, in South African politics,

“transformation” has a particular set of meanings that work against its occurrence: having been part

of the political conversation since before democratic elections in 1994, it has acquired a fixedness,

with terms, outcomes and rhetoric, which make it a part of the framework in which we find and live

our subjectivities either as a particular identity group, or as agents of transformation. Within this

definition, “vulnerable groups” are identified as requiring particular strategies, such as funding for an

extended studies programme, or an academic staff development programme. But do these

vulnerable groups necessarily find transformation through these efforts? Because students “at risk”

have special funding to try to bring about academic equity goals, are they transformed by the

process, and is the institution? Does the funding and opportunities it offers change beliefs and

behaviours of academic staff? I argue that this is not necessarily the case, and that transformation

happens despite formal transformation strategies and not always because of them.

Using the constructedness of subjectivity as a starting point, Butler inspires the idea that “flawed”

performances, mastery and vulnerability in this framework are opportunities for transformation. For

Rhodes University, the subjectivity of individuals within the normative teaching and learning context,

the performativity of subjects within this, and ways in which they exceed, comply with, fail to fit, or

subvert systems, provide opportunities for moments of transformation and new constructions. In

keeping with Butler’s theory, transformation agendas are not the key to social justice in themselves,

but the transformativity of moments, despite these agendas, is what we must look for in order to

explain and explore transformation. Transformativity refers to the conditions of the relationship

between subjectivity, normativity and performativity, which bring about transformation. It requires

the recognition of vulnerability in the renegotiation of subjectivity, and is most possible when

identity categories are destabilised or have non-convergent translations in how they are expressed.

Vulnerability

I find Butler’s engagement with vulnerability, as a way to understand power, particularly useful as an

analytical tool. It provides a way to reconfigure vulnerability into something powerful, by recognising

it differently. This necessarily requires the balance of power to be troubled, which arguably could be

considered dangerous and risky. How a society articulates and manages vulnerability fashions a

response, and rouses a particular version and possibility of survivor or victim. Here Butler’s theory

has profound implications for understanding and transforming society. Butler starts from a position

of how we respond to “loss”, as a way to think about vulnerability, as a meta-principle of the

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subject/norm/performance matrix. Using the lens of “vulnerability” rather than “power” to

understand systemic, collective and generic violence in this country, from a perspective of

subjectivity, we are able to conceive ways of legitimising new subject possibilities and imagine a

world where many more of us have liveable lives. So what is important for me in South Africa (and in

universities) in the struggle for gender, race and class equity, is to understand the importance of

broadening the conditions which determine what is lost, who can grieve, and what constitutes a

‘livable’ life – in other words, an expanded range of subjectivities, facilitated by norms which include

them. Vulnerability, configured here as contingent with loss, is a terrifying thing to those who

haven’t survived exposure to loss before, and its memory is traumatic to those who have

experienced loss and violence.

While fiercely critiquing much of his theory and assumptions, Butler uses Freud’s “mourning” and

“melancholy” states to explain responses to loss, amongst other things, and how ‘melancholic

identification is crucial to the gendering of the ego’( Salih with Butler 2004:244). I use this thinking

here to apply to other ways in which other ego identities are established, for instance teacher and

learner identities, and notions of privilege and exclusion. Butler’s incorporation of grief, mourning

and melancholy into her early theorising in Subjects of Desire (1987) as well as her later critique of

the USA’s response to the 9/11 attacks in Precarious Lives(2004) are crucial to understanding where

and how transformation happens.

Freud’s subject is eternally defined and trapped in taboo desires. Taboo in this scenario implies a

societal restraint on a desire or activity that forms a strong internal compass to the development of

our sexual personas, for instance the desire of a girl child to marry her father. Butler argues that

Freud not only fails to problematise his own and society`s glib heterosexual tendencies, he also uses

these flawed assumptions to build his theory. Butler nonetheless adapts Freud’s rubric to explain

the inherent, contingent and perhaps problematic relationship between the binaries of hetero- and

homosexuality and their various permutations (Butler in Salih with Butler 2004: 251-2; Lloyd 2007:

82-86). While these are important and complex theoretical developments of Freud’s ideas, what are

relevant to this research are Butler’s explanations of loss, grief, mourning and violence which use

Lacanian interpretations of Freud’s theories as a backdrop. Freud explains that melancholy emerges

differently from mourning – melancholy is a refusal to accept loss (of the taboo relationship with the

parent), so that the lost is incorporated into a fixed and idealised notion of who was, and who we

were or could have become without losing – as expressed in the preface of this portfolio, the loss of

my partner could have resulted in this response, where I forever after became known, even to

myself, as “the widow”. I use Butler’s important work on gender, and adapt it to considering teacher

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and learner identities in university settings later on. Importantly though, this adapted rubric helps us

to understand the conditions of violence (as an expression of power) and vulnerability in the South

African setting. If we see the conditions of violence as a fear of vulnerability, power can be

interpreted as a melancholic notion of vulnerability and domination, in that vulnerability is not

actually recognised and protected, but instead is internalised in a fixed and idealised way, and the

fear of it informs the definition of power. The level to which the lives of South Africans are defined

by shades of personal and structural violence can be seen to be a refusal in South African to

acknowledge vulnerability, even though it names “vulnerable groups”, and instead acting out a

melancholic version of power which increases the vulnerability of all. Of the USA (and applicable

here) Butler maintains that ‘the violence it fears is the violence it engenders’ (Butler 2004: 143). If

vulnerability is feared, is it engendered by those measures we establish in order to “support”

vulnerability? What conditions could provide both those who fear vulnerability and so react

“violently”, and those who are dehumanised by violence to themselves or those like them, with the

kind of space where the norm of mutual recognition and respect could reframe the conditions for

subjectivity, for performance, for vulnerability itself?

The notion of vulnerability is a way to animate the theoretical matrix of subjectivity/

normativity/performativity, to examine the ‘founding violence of an episteme’ (Butler in Butler,

Laclau and Žižek 2000: 37), and to animate transformativity. Knowledge, we are told, is power, and

the knowledge we have – of ourselves, and of the world around us – provides us with a powerful

sense of who we are as humans. But in order to learn new things about ourselves, and about the

world, we are required to let go of the boundaries of our knowledge in order to learn something

new and different. Epistemological access as a process might mean the violent exposure of the limits

of our understanding of what the boundaries of and criteria for knowledge have come to mean, and

practices to provide epistemological access could increase the vulnerability and marginality of some.

These are the conditions where transformation happens, where the possibility for transformation

manifests, or, I argue, transformativity becomes a meta space to forge a new, expanded way of

knowing. In this study, teaching and learning are normative spaces where students and lecturers

imagine and determine themselves to be within a normative framework, where they translate and

perform the norms of an institution, discipline or classroom, and are assimilated, or not, into the

university. It is then also the space where the university, the lecturer, the student, the theory, the

philosophy and the politics can be seen as transformable. Transformativity as a notion opens up an

opportunity to see the in between, hybrid space where new subjectivities can be germinated, and

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new frameworks generated, to support and inspire a broader understanding and experience of

knowing, of human.

In the university setting, as policies and institutional cultures expand to reconfigure their

relationship to the worlds in which they are immersed, there is sometimes a mismatch between the

expectations and experiences of teaching and learning. As a teacher, I could find myself out of synch

with usual ways of teaching – in other words, on the margins of the normative framework which

prescribes my performance. It’s a risky space, which could increase my marginality, invisibility or

vulnerability. Arguably, my performance could become visible if it reaches the edge of that boundary

(for instance, if my whole class failed). As a student, I might find myself misunderstood, marginalised

or unrecognised whether I passed or failed, despite my high expectations of university and myself.

Learning, it is argued, is a relational activity (Wahlstrom 2010: 432) - how and what I learn (or teach)

is, arguably, in relation to particular ideas I have about what is expected of teachers and learners,

the relationship between them, and also the range of subjectivities each brings to the encounter.

Importantly then, it is about those parts of me that are animated by the teaching, or learning

encounter, as well as those which are rendered invisible. If a teaching encounter exposes only what

a learner doesn’t know, or what the teacher doesn’t know about the learner, it could construct the

learner as deficient and inadequate, and the teacher as inaccessible and disapproving. If teaching

does not also provide a learner with recognition and opportunity to participate in the construction of

knowledge, inadequacy is all that is animated in some subjects; if learning doesn’t also provide

teachers with some ideas about who else their students are, or who they are not, mis-understanding

is all that is possible.

Always in relation to the other

Using Butler’s theory, I have asked myself: what is it that allows us to progress in our relations with

each other, beyond violence, non-convergence and constrained subjectivity? If we can reconfigure

power non-melancholically, if we have the courage to recognise vulnerability as a necessary

condition of humanness, rather than as something to be feared, we can imagine and facilitate a

transformation of knowledge and knowers in our thinking about social inclusion and social justice.

This will mean some destabilising of the normative frameworks that currently inform our practice in

universities. Vulnerability is experienced and recognised in particular ways in different spaces, and

in South Africa, where shades of violence flare into public events and conversations, vulnerability is

recognised as terrifying, hopeless, pitiable. Our daily lives are infused with spectres of poverty,

inequality, exploitation, cruelty, unemployment and unemployability, unearned privilege,

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entitlement. Universities are immersed in and imbued with these realities. Rhodes University is

embedded in the socio-politico-economic realities of Grahamstown. This city of 100 000+ inhabitants

is known to some as a “university town”, as though the other 80% of the place’s inhabitants did not

exist. The university could be said to imagine itself as central to the town – and economically it does

wield some power and privilege in the town, along with the three internationally renowned private

schools. In many ways the university, and theory, distances itself from its broader community in

order to do its work. Too often though, I would argue, this distance is created out of a sense of

superiority, and knowledge and knowledge making become imperial projects of enlightening the

privileged few, and using the labour (in terms of sites of research; and influence over policy which

affects the poor, unemployed, unequal population) of the masses. According to this schema,

vulnerability is seen in terms of how the powerful can intervene, and not in terms of how we can

recognise our mutual vulnerability in order to free ourselves from the constraints of that identity.

Butler asks us to recognise that the only way forward from systematic violence is to become aware,

again, of our inherent relations to each other. In universities, where competition and individual

effort is encouraged and lauded, and plagiarism and intellectual property rights and other individual

rights are considered significant, we do not favour this openness to each other. Arguably,

universities are sites of judgement and the deeply experienced marginalisation of those who do not

seem to meet the covert and overt criteria of each institution. Butler argues:

For if I am confounded by you, then you are already of me, and I am nowhere without you. I

cannot muster the “we” except by finding the way in which I am tied to “you”, by trying to

translate but finding that my own language must break up and yield if I am to know you. You

are what I gain through this disorientation and loss. This is how the human comes into being,

again and again, as that which we have yet to know’ (Butler 2004: 49).

The norms and values that shape university life differ from institution to institution. Common to

them are the more “universal” notions of equity, transformation, social justice, and accountability in

the form of laws, imperatives and requirements (for state and donor funding; for labour compliance;

for rationalising relevance in their communities etc), and these are emphasised and translated in

particular ways in each institution. Butler’s theory highlights a way in which we can think about

practices that continue to exclude and privilege unfairly. Precisely because the notion of

“transformation” has assumed a fixed normative aspect, it brings into relief the unfixed – the ways in

which the norms can’t keep the ideas, subjectivities, and epistemologies of the spectral other out of

visibility. Butler asks us to consider the possibility of turning loss, vulnerability, grief, into a ‘resource

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for politics’ (ibid: 30). In the mourning/melancholy matrix, melancholy occurs when loss (or

vulnerability) is “solved” quickly in order to restore former order, for instance by establishing an

extended studies programme, or by providing these kinds of measures to support vulnerable groups.

But arguably, this will never fully deal with loss and vulnerability – instead it could entrench a fear of,

and a refusal to accept it, so that the power which emerges from this configuration is always a

melancholic fear of vulnerability. If mourning takes place, it means the lost is given up, the

vulnerability is recognised. This, argues Butler, ‘is not to be resigned to inaction, but it may be

understood as the slow process by which we develop a point of identification with suffering itself’

leading to that fruitful place where we ‘might critically evaluate and oppose the conditions under

which certain human lives are more vulnerable than others…from where might a principle emerge

by which we vow to protect others from the kind of violence we have suffered’ (ibid). A way forward

through the legacies which continue to inform the statistics and demographics around who are

admitted and who succeeds at universities (CHE report 2013: 39-53), and how success is measured,

is to consider those moments where there are those that suffer the violence of non-recognition

where they aspire to be recognised; and where this provides the opportunity to destabilise the

centricity of the norms which limit them, and legitimise vulnerability as the possibility of new

epistemologies. Teaching, and this portfolio which reflects on it, is a location for transformativity,

and, as Butler has inspired, ‘[It] is to solicit a becoming, to petition the future always in relation to

the other’ (Butler 2004:44).

The sections which follow will deal broadly with my thinking and experiences around teaching

practices (Chapter 4); assessment (Chapter 5); curriculum (Chapter 6) and evaluation (Chapter 7).

But as you will notice, these will overlap with each other, drawing from Butler’s ideas explained in

this chapter, as well as the ideas of other educational theorists, and interspersed with examples

from classroom events, student stories, and self, peer and student reflections. The order of the

chapters is fairly random, in that, for instance, while it might be expected that the chapter on

“curriculum” should precede the one on “assessment”, I argue that all of these components are

intrinsically linked and mutually informed. The first of these sections, teaching practice, will provide

many of the principles which inform all of the others.

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Chapter 4: TEACHING PRACTICE

Subjectivities

Arguably, the ESU exists on the margins of the university: students have a unique registration code

(BAF 1) which identifies them as students who need extra help. As a teacher in the unit, I sometimes

feel that I am not “quite” an academic, as I teach the ES first year class (every day, every term) – my

status as a lecturer is influenced by the fact that on the whole, my teaching is confined to first year –

I don’t have much opportunity to teach in other years, and whether or not others regard my

consequent status as below those who teach other years, devise honours programmes, and

supervise multiple post-graduate students, I feel less of an academic. In addition to this, there are

other norms that increase my self-determined marginality, based perhaps on the hidden norms that

define teaching at Rhodes: over time, much more of my teaching practice has been expressed as a

high school teacher (14 years) than as a university lecturer (5 years), and the differences in teaching

in these separate sectors includes a difference in status and weight; I completed my undergraduate

degree in 1979 (with majors in Philosophy, English and Psychology, and no exposure to the

disciplines of Politics and Sociology), in the height of apartheid, and was at no stage challenged by

my lecturers to dispute or confront current political realities, which delegitimizes that education for

me to a certain extent; my teaching experiences and those in the NGO sector (1996-2002) have

expanded my understanding of human nature in ways that affect who I am, but I am only now

starting to articulate these experiences, to myself, as significant to the role of lecturer; I was

accepted as a Master’s student at the age of 50 in 2009, meaning that in many ways I have not had

the same seamless historical or epistemological building blocks as my colleagues (so, for instance,

before I started my Master’s degree, I had not engaged with Foucault or Fanon, or other stalwarts of

current political or sociological theory). Even though I also teach in Sociology 1, Drama 1 and 3, and

co-supervise a Masters student in Politics, and one in Education; serve in numerous university

committees; participate in a reading group; have studied for PG Dip (HE) part-time while teaching

every day, and completed my Masters in the same way; present papers at conferences at least once

a year; am beginning to publish; am parent to two interesting children; and am engaged in

community projects in my own capacity over weekends and after hours; I am formally employed as

an Extended Studies first year teacher. My subjectivity as a teacher does not necessarily render

other subjectivities visible – or alternatively, spectres of them are apprehended, not (yet) recognised

(Butler reference), and I have a healthy sense of my marginality as a lecturer in the academic

community as I translate the norms that define “lecturer” at Rhodes University from my individual

vantage point. The extended studies space provides an alternative perspective on teaching and

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learning norms for students and for me as lecturer, destabilising the centricity of any one normative

framework, and it contributes alternative insights into how teaching and learning affect

transformation – not only of marginal students to life-long learners, but also my own marginal status

as lecturer to one that is important and legitimate.

To contextualise, in the Rhodes University’s Humanity’s programme, some students who apply to do

a BA but fall short of the minimum points for entry are offered a place in the extended programme.

Taking into consideration a number of other factors (including schooling experiences, whether they

are first generation students, background, mark breakdown etc), students are invited to extend their

degrees by a year. In the Humanities faculty (for which the extended studies is provided as an

augmented course), students must make a choice between Anthropology and Journalism, or

Sociology and Politics, as their first year courses. From second year, they can either continue with

these, or change their subjects altogether. So the extended programme provides “disadvantaged”

students with support during their first year (a dedicated double period every day but one, and two

double periods on a Friday) for their first year. I teach students who select Sociology 1 and Politics 1

as their mainstream subjects, and I provide parallel augmented teaching for one year which supports

these mainstream curricula, and also pays attention to academic literacy in the context of Sociology

and Politics. From second year on, students continue with their degrees without dedicated help. So

the first year experience for extended studies students is aimed at providing epistemological access

for “disadvantaged” learners into university disciplines, and in which they receive additional

assistance to achieve this.

All universities have specific institutional cultures which attract, socialise and retain particular kinds

of students, and teachers. The first year experience is facilitated more easily for those who adapt to

this culture, or who, in Butlerian terms, perform their roles in accordance with the norms. As a

century old institution, Rhodes University has a history and present which is informed by colonialism

and apartheid, is transforming in various ways, and aspires to an internationally recognised idea of

research excellence (Rhodes University: vision and mission). In this context, certain kinds of knowing

are privileged and rewarded. My involvement in WASA (the Women’s Academic Solidarity

Association, an organisation which was established by women academics to provide support to each

other since 2004) at Rhodes for many years has given me insight into ways in which the knowledge

community of the university excludes people based on identity issues rather than knowledge issues,

through conversations that show how certain (eg women, “black” people), fail to thrive in the

institutional culture. The ES class represents students who have different class, educational and race

backgrounds to the “average” or normalised notion of student. While they are considered to be

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peripheral to the centre, it is exactly these students who must disrupt the centre, where knowledge

is sometimes or seen to be guarded by ‘gatekeepers’ (Haggis 2003:102) who have not expanded

their conceptions of who they are managing or teaching. Because of large classes, and an imperative

to retain an idea of “academic excellence”, mainstream lecturers in Sociology 1 and Politics 1 are

challenged to design first year curricula that introduce and orientate students to their disciplines and

secure fundamental principles on which to build from their second year onwards. From my own

observations, lecturers who teach their discipline’s first year class are not necessarily interested

academically in the modules they teach, but see it as an important building block for knowledge

making in their discipline later on. The size of many classes inhibits how much any lecturer can know

about the personal circumstances of their students. Although the compulsory tutorials attached to

each discipline provide smaller group settings in which to unpack the concepts dealt with in lectures,

tutors tend to be students who have complied with the normative framework in order to achieve

suitable marks which qualify them to apply to be tutors. They are not trained as teachers, and

following the example set by their lecturers, are concerned with completing a set curriculum

(understood as content knowledge) within a set time frame. As Boles and Kelly observe, ‘There is a

range of cognitive styles which affect the ways in which individuals learn best. Differences do not

imply inferior intellectual capacities’ (Boles and Kelly 1999: no page numbers), but these are not

necessarily understood or explored in mainstream classes and tutorials that are concerned with

generic approaches.

The focus, then, in first year especially, is arguably on epistemological access: providing students

with the knowledge tools with which to engage with specific knowledge in a discipline. These

knowledge tools are predetermined before the course begins, and lecturers and tutors are

concerned with ensuring that students grasp the concepts and produce writing which demonstrates

this, from the first term onwards. For numerous reasons, not least of which are competing priorities

and time constraints, first year curricula for some modules in Sociology 1 and Politics 1 have

remained virtually unchanged for the five years I have experienced them, as have the teaching and

learning practices. In others, the change is comprehensive and important. The CHE Higher Education

Monitor of 2007, a research paper on improving teaching and learning in university, suggests several

‘[B]road strategies that are seen as necessary conditions for substantial improvement’ in teaching

and learning in universities, and which include ‘ the reform of core curriculum frameworks;

enhancing the status of teaching and building educational expertise in the sector to enable the

development and implementation of teaching approaches that will be effective in catering for

student diversity; and clarifying and strengthening accountability for educational outcomes’ (Scott,

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Yeld and Henry 2007: 73). These dense strategies imply that the teaching project is ontological and

epistemological, in that it is required to take responsibility (‘strengthening accountability’) for an

expanded notion of “student” (‘student diversity’), in order to provide necessary and expert

educational and material support (‘effective in catering’). This necessarily means reconfiguring the

norms of knowledge itself (‘reform of core curriculum’), which is a complicated process in a context

of academic staff diversity, individual academic priorities and proficiencies, and academic freedom.

Teachers are recognised as teachers when they comply with broad criteria devised by various

committees, such as the Teaching and Learning committee.

The criteria which govern teaching are necessarily broad, given the diversity of teachers in any

university. In the PG Dip (HE), we have been exposed to numerous readings on what it is to be a

“good” teacher, or readings which help to identify what kinds of teachers we are. For instance, David

Pratt has developed a teaching style inventory (http://teachingperspectives.com/) and our PG Dip

(HE) class was encouraged to complete this in order to find out what our own approaches were. Did

the inventory exercise teach me anything about my practice? My reflection on the exercise claims:

Yes indeed. I know that this inventory gives only my perspective of what I do and why I do it,

but it is very affirming right now, and even makes me like myself a little bit. It doesn’t

surprise me that Nurturing, Developmental and Social Reform are neck and neck as my

highest scores, and I was intrigued to see that in terms of Action (what I DO), that

Apprenticeship makes an appearance as the highest score. So I try to model the behaviour

required to be an academic? That’s good news to me. (reflection on TPI exercise, PGDHE,

2012)

Despite my reflection that I gained perspective on my teaching practice through this inventory, my

own doubts on my being a “good” or “real” teacher are reflected further in the exercise, where I say:

But I did have some criticisms about the questions and the assumptions they made. I

answered some of the questions reluctantly, because I could see how things were being

packaged as either or, and felt this wasn't inclusive of slightly strange teachers like me.

(reflection on TPI exercise, PGDHE, 2012)

This simple and arguably reductionist exercise provides a link to a particular set of constructions of

what it is to be a lecturer, and is introduced perhaps as part of a normative framework. It is useful as

a reference to this framework, but I would argue (and there are those who support this – for

example Barnett 2005; hooks 1994) that this should not be so at the expense of rendering other

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meaningful attributes less visible. Other theories and theorists presented in the PG Dip (HE)

demonstrated that there are numerous ways to think about what it is to be a “good” teacher. At

Rhodes University and elsewhere in the sector, there is a great deal of autonomy in teaching

practices, and first year students are exposed to a range of styles and expectations, unique to each

lecturer in each discipline. I have been encouraged in the PG Dip (HE) to align my teaching practices

to my philosophy of teaching, and this portfolio is an attempt to articulate this.

The ES classroom provides an important breathing space where student-subjects are formed

ontologically and epistemologically, where lectures, disciplines, norms, can be critiqued, can be

shown as accessible or transformable, as long as there is the possibility for vulnerability to be

reconfigured. This means, in part, making the taken-for-granted assumptions and values more

visible; providing a space where power is set up in particular ways which acknowledge vulnerability

without oppressive judgement, and where power can and must be subverted, where vulnerability

must be noticed and supported in unthreatening ways; where other subjectivites of other selves

elsewhere, that are successful and wise and capable, can inform the norms which prescribe who is

acknowledged as “student” or “teacher”; and where the binaries between these and other identity

categories merge because of a recognition of what is foundational to all: the fear of vulnerability.

Teaching and learning practices: ES

The ES class is much smaller than mainstream classes (between 23 and 40, compared to 300 and

500) and consists of a range of students, all of whom have fewer points than is necessary for entry

into mainstream BA, and all of whom are black. Apart from these similarities, there are numerous

differences: some are from rural or township schools, or are first generation university entrants, or

are from private or formerly model C schools; some have wealthy or educated parents, some have

no parent, or one parent who has limited education. In practice then, arguably, the ES class is both a

microcosm and ghetto: their home circumstances, previous schooling, and higher education

readiness align with some of their mainstream peers in important ways. For this reason, the

experiences of ES students are useful in understanding all university classes who display

demographic diversity. Furthermore, students are not provided with institutionalised academic

support beyond the first year extended studies class, and many struggling first year students do not

have access to ES. Arguably this could ghettoise this kind of important ontological work by limiting it

to one small class, rather than make these learnings part of a broader informative framework.

As an indication of some of the challenges faced by ES students, I offer a reflection from a PG Dip

(HE) exercise:

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some of them come from rural schools or township schools, so it is a big jump. A surprising

number of them have lost one or both parents, and many are the first in their families to

come to university. This means that they don't have the support systems that many students

take for granted. Some of my students were top of their schools, but struggle with English

and computers. They are then seen as stupid, by tutors or lecturers, who don't understand

the challenges of learning in a second language. Many haven't done History, and the politics

lecturer assumes that students know about, eg, the cold war, the french revolution - so

there is lots of catching up to do in our ES classes. A number of them come to university

from fairly traumatising circumstances, or deal with death, illness and other kinds of losses

while they are with me. Many struggle financially, although NSFAS funding increasingly is

taking care of most of their needs at university. These contexts have been their socialising

factors prior to and during their time at Rhodes. Another context however is the Rhodes

context itself. Sometimes lecturers forget that the students they teach are not one bit like

they were when they were students, and this is a challenge because they draw on examples

or make assumptions which alienate my students. Tutors too are not always alert to the

ways in which ES students are made to feel stupid, or are undervalued, in tutorials. Even

worse are real situations of racism, sexism and other kinds of discrimination which some

students have to survive from other Rhodes students. A further aspect of the Rhodes

context, is that they often arrive here as top students in their schools, and are made to feel

as though they have nothing to offer at Rhodes. (reflection on ‘Some of the contextual

factors that impact on my teaching and my students' learning Friday, 9 March 2012)

The consequences of these pressures are immense. Often, I am the only person my students will

confide in, despite the university offering various forms of support through a Counselling Centre,

Wardens who oversee each residence, and a Dean of Student’s office which will offer minimal

financial help. This year (2013) alone for example: one of my students attempted suicide a day after

receiving her Politics essay back (this was not the only contributing factor to her attempt, but it was

perhaps the straw that broke the camel’s back); two of them had T.O.P’s (termination of pregnancy)

within the first few weeks of arrival, and which traumatised them to a certain extent; one of these is

pregnant again, and this time is keeping the child, despite the sudden loss of support from the

father; at least one that I know of has experienced ongoing sexual abuse from a family member, and

did not want to go home for any of her holidays; one student stayed away from class for a long

period because he didn’t have money for washing powder or deodorant, and was embarrassed to

come to class; another student was picked up walking barefoot 9 km’s outside of Grahamstown by a

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farmer, because of a traumatic break-up with a boyfriend, on top of other home challenges; another

stayed away from class because he was working as a builder of RDP houses in the local township in

order to provide food for his family, and gain independence from them; one student discovered that

he was HIV positive in June, and could not bring himself to seek counselling even though he

considered suicide; one student, the eldest son in his family, had to deal with the death of his

mother (his remaining parent) and had to deal with countless court-cases regarding her estate; one

student is chronically diabetic, and has to go to hospital regularly and inject herself daily. Out of a

class of only 23, this is evidence that there are multiple ontological factors that affect the success of

students, most of which are invisible to their mainstream lecturers.

But importantly, the kind of teaching and learning that takes place in my ES classes is quite different

to what is offered in mainstream, with significant consequences. Students engage with the concepts

and theories of each discipline in ways that are sometimes framed by ontological engagement, in a

sheltered space. Arguably, this falls into the category of student-centred teaching. Blackie et al claim

that ‘Student-centred teaching is not just a different style of teaching. It requires that the academic

really understands and appreciates the need to pay attention to the students and their learning….

This requires the academic to be invested in the learning of the students, rather than in the transfer

of information, and to be concerned about the actual process of learning happening in the students’

(Blackie et al 2010: 638) It means being an accessible, approachable human, where ‘the face that

one presents in the classroom is not substantially different from the face one presents in research or

in one’s family life, indeed, congruence requires that facades are dropped’ (ibid: 639). This kind of

teaching and learning is risky: relating ontologically risks vulnerability, because it requires, of

students and of me, the teacher, to open up ourselves, our beings, to each other and to knowledge.

As Hill et al argue, ‘Taking those risks may mean the classroom is no longer an entirely comfortable

space; it may even appear chaotic.’(Hill et al 1998:48). Where vulnerability is constructed as weak,

where it is not valued and nurtured, risking it requires a level of courage or abandon. Arguably

though, the vulnerability when it happens is that moment of recognition when transformation is

possible, when ontology provides access to powerful knowledge.

A focus on epistemological access sometimes undermines the relevance and possibility of thinking

about ontological access and different cultures, and theorists in the field have been arguing this for

the last decade. Barnett (2004, 2005) speaks of a need for an ‘ontological turn’ in teaching within

higher education, while acknowledging that epistemology is not thereby entirely displaced. He

argues that ‘instead of knowing the world, being-in-the-world has to take primary place in the

conceptualizations that inform university teaching’ (Barnett 2005:795). Dall’Alba and Barnacle (2007:

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682) argue in their paper, “An ontological turn in higher education”, that this is partly a Heideggerian

idea. Thomson explains this, arguing that the role of education is to provide humans with reflexivity

in order to be able to re-turn to knowing the world. The paper argues that ‘[O]ur very “being-in-the-

world” is shaped by the knowledge we pursue, uncover, and embody. [There is] a troubling sense in

which it seems that we cannot help practicing what we know, since we are “always already”

implicitly shaped by our guiding metaphysical presuppositions’ (Thomson, in Dall’Alba and Barnacle:

682). While Thomson’s argument provides too neat a binary between self and world, as though they

are not mutually dependant and entwined, his work on Heidegger (sharing a theoretical engagement

with existential phenomenology with Butler) alerts us to the undeniable link between ontology and

epistemology, and how they are mutually shaped. Dall’Alba and Barnacle go on to argue that ‘[I]f

being and knowing are inextricable, then exploring this interdependence provides a means of not

only problematising but also transforming higher education. Knowing is inhabited; we cannot step

outside it. But it is also transformative—it can change who we are’ (ibid).

This interdependence between ontology and epistemology can be (and is) noticed and addressed in

various ways which will be explained with examples in the following section.

Sheltered learning: experiences in extended studies

In extended studies classes, and as will be explained in more detail in the chapter on curriculum, my

work is responsive to the curricula set up by mainstream lecturers in Sociology 1 and Politics 1.

Arguably, and as suggested by my theoretical orientation, the norms which define student success in

mainstream classes are established through an ongoing relationship between students, the lecturer,

and the knowledge field, and the norms define and are defined by these relationships. In ES, the

smaller class provides us with opportunities to get to know each other differently. There are

opportunities for self-disclosure around histories, values, experiences, uncertainties. Students get to

know me beyond usual “teacher” relationships, and each other. As a peer observer noted about my

teaching in ES:

Her interaction with students went beyond your typical lecturer student relationship in that

she created a sense of community amongst her students by encouraging them to work in

groups and also encouraging them to interact beyond the classroom. She showed genuine

concern for the students by not only caring about their academics but also their social and

emotional wellbeing. She opened a space where students could open up about their fears,

concerns and even personal problems. In my opinion, Corinne was more than a lecturer to

these students; she played multiple roles from being a lecturer, counsellor and even a

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mother to some. I really think these roles were managed carefully and effectively as the

need arose. (peer review 2012: Ms Tanyanyiwa)

This deeper relationship with students as part of my teaching practice is also indicated in student

reflections (Appendix xxx). In a question that asked: ‘CK is different to other lecturers in that…’,

some of the responses were:

She doesn’t only care about the student, but she cares about the person as a whole. She

doesn’t impose her opinions on us (Sipho3, 2013)

She is able to create a comfortable environment where students can be themselves and

develop a perspective (Sina, 2013)

She does not see you as part of a group or just as a student like the rest, she makes time to

know you and recognises one as an individual (Tam, 2013)

These reflections on my teaching are important to me, because they help to make visible the

principles that inform why I teach the way I do: that the individuals in my class, and I, are more than

merely a student or teacher subjectivity. There are multiple roles that we all perform and where: a

student, or teacher, exists as marginal to the norm of what it is to be a student or teacher; or where

students find that although they were the top achievers in their schools or villages or families, they

are nonetheless regarded as inferior in tutorial groups; in ES there is the space to bring more of who

we are into the mix, in order to expand the norms of what it is to be a student, or a teacher.

Group work, class discussions, and an atmosphere of permissive communication ensures plenty of

opportunities to explore ideas in safety – sometimes in isiXhosa, which I am still desperately learning

to speak. In many ways, the ES space is similar to informal student academic spaces, where students

discuss classes they have had and concepts which confuse or intrigue them. In Butlerian terms, the

norms which define who they can be in the ES space provide a great deal of opportunity to bring

other selves and subjectivities into it. So, for instance, when we work with a mainstream Politics

concept such as “positive” freedom ( free of any state interference) and “negative” freedom

(facilitated by a paternalistic state who makes moral decisions on our behalf), in ES each person

thinks of a time they felt really free. In small groups they share these, and decide together which

“category” the experiences of freedom fall into – this is an attempt to embody knowledge concepts

– to look for the convergence and non-convergence of ideas and experiences, in order to produce

3 I have used random names in order to protect the anonymity of the students, and have obtained their permission to use their feedback in this way.

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knowledge that is unique and diverse. Two young men expressed that when they came back from

initiation they felt really free. They thought this was positive freedom, but the class discussion

helped them to understand that “culture” had determined this freedom, and we discussed ways in

which culture does this – shapes our freedoms. Similarly, a student shared that “accepting Jesus”

into her life was a positive freedom, and the class (some of whom sniggered, but were muted by a

context of non-judgement) helped her to see that this too was a freedom defined and shaped by a

particular faith and religion, so it fell into the negative category. These personal stories, shared at

the risk of vulnerability, but sheltered in this class space, are an important aspect of understanding

the concept of freedom, and an opportunity to get to grips with what freedom really means, and if it

can be universal. Epistemological access is provided by a focus on ontology, in a way that will be with

us beyond the limits of this narrow disciplinary significance. This is an example of ways in which I

work with knowledge in my ES classes, in order to embody it in diverse bodies, and in order to

inspire lifelong learning which continues beyond the university. Blackie et al go on to say that ‘[I]f we

are to take the idea of the person of the student seriously, we need to begin to pay attention to the

emotional side of education’ where ‘[T]he manner in which an individual interacts with knowledge is

emotionally charged’, even if knowledge in itself is considered to be ‘neutral’ (Blackie et al 2010:

641). This kind of emotional labour requires immediacy, care and alertness in order to translate into

effective learning and teaching, and although the risks are high, and the demands are heavy, the

costs of NOT doing this are high too, and so, I argue, ontological engagement is necessary in order to

facilitate student success.

In another example, students are required to write an essay for Politics 1 as their term assignment.

In ES, we discussed the topics, and selected one which we focussed on in order to provide ES

students with the scaffolding they require to write their essay. The essay required them to apply

Mill’s “Harm Principle” and Dworkin’s “Right to ridicule” to the ruling around Julius Malema singing

“Shoot the Boer”. Four set readings were to be used to support students’ arguments. Reading is a

challenge for some students, for whom English is a second or third language, and so the first task

was to ensure that the readings were read and understood. Each reading was unpacked in various

ways in separate classes (through class discussions, or reading sections of the reading together with

explanations from me), and summarised by students and marked by me (Chapter 5 will unpack this

process more fully). Still, some students were struggling to build up an argument around the

principle of freedom of expression, and where it conflicted with the right to dignity. At the time,

there were a number of current examples of this tension in the SA press: a student was suspended

from CPUT for a racist facebook comment; and two models were in a racist tweet war. We discussed

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these in class to try to find how a principle can be applied. Then the story of Brett Murray’s painting

“The Spear” broke, and provided the breakthrough example. Before the story had hit the headlines, I

handed out copies of an online article about it, including a thumbnail of the painting. This hit a nerve

– students engaged in furious debate. All the male students bar one argued that this was an affront,

while female students wondered why this was worse than the ways in which women’s bodies were

objectified constantly in adverts and art without any problem. In the class discussion, I realised the

extent to which some students were genuinely and deeply offended by the painting. I encouraged

them to share these feelings, to explain how they felt and why this was – my own attitude of

feminist, liberal, devil’s advocate in the class discussions became influenced by noticing the strength

of an emotional response from the male students, and I saw this as an important process to render

visible, in order to bring other subjectivities into this space of knowledge struggle. Once they

brought their feelings to the space, where I listened carefully and respectfully, despite disagreeing

with the principles, they could begin to express why it was that they could feel so strongly about this

– this took us into the risky space of sharing feelings, but with the support of knowledge tools close

by. I asked them to come up with a principle which one could apply to support their preference to

ban the painting. Once they came up with a principle (dignity of office) we used the principle to

apply in a situation on campus, where “dignity of office” could hamper their own rights as students

to freely express their unhappiness with, for hypothetical example, the way a mainstream course is

assessed and tested. Together we saw that “dignity of office” as a principle (with various

permutations and consequences) did not stand up satisfactorily to the rigour of application. We then

discussed how to deal with the fact that they had legitimate feelings about the painting, but could

not, for now, find legal or principled recourse to ban it, without this affecting some of their own

dearly held principles of freedom of expression. This opened up the opportunity to talk about how to

manage one’s cultural and religious beliefs in the context of academic freedom, and academic

writing, which encourages them to build up an argument based on theories and academic articles,

sometimes against what they personally believed or felt. They “saw”, possibly for the first time, that

academic writing is not necessarily about their own feelings, but is instead an exercise in rhetoric.

We explored the idea that academic thinking, like religion and morals, has norms and rules, and that

if you understand them, you can perform them without necessarily compromising your other selves.

And how that academic thinking can provide support for intuitive, unarticulated beliefs, if you read

more and think more, and let curiosity and passion and resonance determine your academic and

intellectual journey, aligning it to your moral, emotional and material existences. They were closer

to understanding how to hold their own beliefs, while arguing academically for something else. They

saw the risks that this involves, and how theory can challenge these beliefs. We even spoke about

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the possibility of losing faith because of theory, and that although this was possible, it wasn’t

inevitable. Zembylas claims that ‘T[h]e articulate elaboration of alternatives and consequences—in

other words, the emotional freedom to be open to deal with goal conflicts and their emotional

suffering—facilitates emotional navigation’ (Zembylas 2005:482), and this example is one of many

where ES classes provide teacher and learners with opportunities for transformation.

Because sharing their ontological concerns is permitted in a sheltered space, students access the

epistemology which will allow them to successfully complete their term’s assignment. It’s the

beginning of an academic journey, but students have begun to understand the ways in which

knowledge is embodied or acquired, and ways in which they can and should manage to balance their

own belief systems in an unforgiving academic space. Part of the transformation that is possible in

this context comes with something that Alexander describes as: ‘The recognition that I am inherently

worthwhile even though I make mistakes, coupled with the awareness that I have the capacity to

contribute to a better tomorrow for myself and others is a source of profound joy’ (Alexander 2005:

363).Arguably, vulnerability has been recognised and accommodated, in order to reconfigure its

significance. The transformation of vulnerability itself, the legitimising of it as a powerful tool for

knowledge making, can provide important epistemological access.

bell hooks speaks of a time when she assumed that because she was aware of it, she did not have

power over her students (hooks 1994: 187-188). In retrospect she acknowledges how dangerous this

assumption can be, but also how limiting – if I assume that I do or do not have power in a classroom,

I inhibit how much I can learn about power through educational encounters. For me, it is important

to notice aloud where power is operating, in order to make space for vulnerability. But once we start

to reconfigure power and vulnerability, the conversation changes into something that is

transformational. It is also important to disrupt power constructs, both in and outside of the

classroom. So in terms of teaching style, I walk around the classroom (in most mainstream classes,

the teacher stays behind the lectern), I invite my own vulnerability: I give my own opinions and share

my own experiences – and I often (at least once a term) ask for honest student feedback on my

teaching; I admit that I don’t know things, and then explain how I would go about finding them out –

modelling vulnerability in a sheltered space. These practices are different from most of the

mainstream lectures which I attend with my ES class, and I argue that they are transformational

because they disrupt the norms, leading to an expansion of norms of what it is to be a lecturer or a

student. I encourage group work, I sit in different places while group work is happening, and I

encourage engagement from all students. I am an active, passionate teacher and student, and

subvert dependencies and hierarchies by disclosing my own feelings and ambiguities about things,

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using my own experiences as examples, noticing aloud my biases and opinions and questions,

encouraging disagreement, and “going off on tangents”.

In a recent student class discussion on my teaching, this latter habit of going off on tangents was

noted as an ambiguous curse and blessing by students, whose comments helped me, and us, to

understand the transformativity of the behaviour. There was an acknowledgement that this “going

off on tangents” is a particular challenge in mainstream classes, where lecturers will bring in

theories, events and philosophers into a conversation, in order to explain the context of the

particular knowledge or information. So in a discussion about equality, the lecturer will bring in what

theorists have contributed to our current understanding, along with specific current or historical

political incidents and challenges. ES students have expressed their frustration and confusion by this,

some of them not having been exposed to the assumed range of knowledge – for instance, one

student hadn’t realised that France was a country, and there was a French Revolution, let alone

where it was. But when “going off on a tangent” is performed by me, and supported by the role

provided to them (to monitor my diversions and remind me where we were, and to evaluate what

the relevance and connection of the side-story has to the main point) they are a legitimate part of

the performance – applauding as audience, gently mocking me, waiting in the wings for their

moment on the stage. The fact that I can do this at a pace which makes the reasons for “going off on

tangents” more visible, means an opportunity for students and teacher to be reflexive about

experience, knowledge, and knowledge production.

I find Northedge’s article ‘Rethinking teaching in the context of diversity’ (2003) particularly useful in

understanding how I teach and why I do it in the way that I do. Northedge opens his paper with

examples of students responses to a course – the course attracted a variety of learners of different

ages and stages, and challenged the teacher to enable epistemological access to all of them

simultaneously. This inspired a sympathetic reading of this paper: my teaching is also to a widely

diverse group, and because my style of teaching aims to engage meaningfully with each one, the

challenge is to deal with disciplinary knowledge in a way that provides learners with vastly different

backgrounds access to understanding mainstream subjects, and the ability to articulate this

knowledge firstly in our class, and then in the mainstream. This is an incredibly daunting aim but at

least having that intention and aiming towards it is more likely to lead more students to being able

to participate in the discourses of the mainstream subjects than any other aim.

Northedge argues that specialist knowledge, attached to a specific knowledge community, requires

an understanding of concepts and relevant information, but that these are enabling rather than

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constitutive elements of the community (ibid: 20). Participation, he argues further, happens in a

variety of ways. The ES programme runs parallel to the mainstream course of Sociology 1 and Politics

1. Each of these spaces has specific norms which frame how teaching and learning is practiced. My

challenge is to enable participation, firstly in the smaller ES class, but also and concurrently in

mainstream tutorials and classes. How we get to that point, I argue, is through being, or ontology,

first, and epistemology, or knowledge, second – and in Butlerian terms, it is in noticing the norms

which frame subjectivity, and working with vulnerability in order to transform students from feeling

vulnerable in terms of what they don’t know, into owning their vulnerability in order to transform it

into strength. In a way then, the ES class is a ‘peripheral’ discourse community, where we can

participate at a “lower” status to the centre (ibid: 20). It is a space where at times they can just listen

and observe and later start to engage where it is safe to do so when their understandings and use of

the discourse are still so divergent from the 'experts' use of the discourse. I would argue that the

hierarchical status Northedge imposes on knowledge communities is misleading, and assumes an

academic-centric understanding of learning. In a student-centric understanding of learning, any

process that challenges the status quo has, for me, a high status, because it can lead to an expansion

of the norms which frame student-subjectivity. The knowledge community of our university, for

instance, is challenged by those who don’t see things in the same way as those who are in the

“centre” – it is no doubt frustrating to these in the centre when someone from the periphery

challenges central ideas or ways of doing things, but these challenges are often useful in bringing

about necessary changes, or an expansion of the norms – which is good for everybody, and not only

those who are on the periphery. The ES group represents students who have different class, and

educational backgrounds to the average student. In ES classes, there is an emphasis on valuing

participation, and this is encouraged by valuing diverse individuals – such as the discussions around

positive and negative freedom discussed above. As Northedge argues, ‘knowledge is not pinned

down on the pages of a book. We cannot chop it into pieces to feed to students. It arises out of a

process of discoursing, situated within communities’ (ibid: 19).

So my ES class is a peripheral space where students can BE in order to DO and KNOW. In the ES class

there are also those who more readily speak out (‘generate’) and those who learn vicariously

through the arguments of others (ibid: 20). Because my ES classes use a variety of activities (group

work, working in pairs, as well as full class discussions) those who learn vicariously also have the

opportunity to generate knowledge in certain settings – when working in pairs or smaller groups.

Northedge argues that ‘a key function of discourse is to share knowledge between people who

understand differently’ (ibid: 21). As ES students learn to share even personal stories in the safe

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space of ES, they feel valued, and can contribute in the larger mainstream classes, even though they

might ‘understand differently’ to mainstream students or lecturers.

Northedge defines learning as ‘becoming increasingly competent as both: a user of various specialist

discourses; [and a] participant within the relevant knowledge community’ (ibid: 22). Through the

process of learning they gain ‘intellectual power’ and ‘social power’. This is not without some

difficult processes. This is an understatement – a hugely difficulty process for many if not most

students. One of the 2012 ES students was of concern to me, because the concepts in Sociology 1

and Politics 1 deeply challenged his being, and his experiences in these classes and tutorials affected

his learning. The previous year he trained as a tour guide, and felt competent and confident as a

student and practitioner. In his first year of university, however, in tutorials and mainstream classes,

he felt that his contributions were not valued. This led to a severe identity crisis, exacerbated by

understandings of equality, stratification, justice, inequality (all concepts dealt with in Politics 1 and

Sociology 1). He was losing weight, and when I called him at the end of the class to ask if he was

okay, he became tearful. I saw him on his own later that day, and my task was to communicate that

his experiences and opinions are indeed valuable, and significant. By engaging with his being, we

were able to move towards epistemological access into the concepts which troubled him. Without

ontological access though, he would be just another statistic of students excluded after first year.

Although this is not the case for all students, who manage to keep going despite feeling

marginalised, this particular student could not participate before he was rendered visible, before his

being was valued, and before he could find his own location within the discourse. McKenna argues

that ‘learning is not a skill acquired through desire to succeed and practice, but involves complex

social interactions and power differentials that engage the identities of the learners’ and where

‘Individual’s identities… must be understood in relation to the larger social structures in which they

live. The issue of power, or access to resources within these social structures, is therefore an

important factor in determining which identities are available to individuals and also which are

valued.’ (McKenna 2004: 273). The young man’s story I have described points to the complex power

dynamics at our university that could work against student success, unless the identity category of

“student” is opened up to be more inclusive, through the difficult emotional labour to understand

who our students are. Northedge claims that ‘with a diverse student body, no fixed start or end

point can be assumed and, consequently, no selection of items can be appropriate to the needs of

all’ (Northedge 2003: 19), pointing to the fact that this is a comprehensive project, in and outside of

the classroom, using a diversity of approaches and methods, in order that students feel recognised.

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In academic discourse, which encourages an ‘unhurried, speculative, analytical and uncommitted’

voice as opposed to the everyday voice which is ‘urgent personal, emotive and tribal’(ibid: 24),

students are required to step away from their personal selves and “become” analytical. In line with

McKenna’s thinking (2004), I argue that few students are able to do this without the cost of their

identities, which have been socialised and shaped outside of academic settings. The university

favours those who have had the benefit of thinking analytically – through their schooling or families

– prior to coming to university. So part of the challenge in ES is to firstly SEE who my students are,

and to align these selves with a discourse which requires them to expand these selves, and hopefully

in a way that also expands how the university frames “student-ness”. Northedge argues that

students ‘must learn to exchange discursive identities, without feeling disloyal, or shallow’ (ibid: 27).

Disloyalty to inherited wisdoms of everyday life can be extremely unsettling, and even fatal (as

perhaps was almost the case with the student who attempted suicide earlier this year). If, as an ES

teacher, I do not notice these struggles or shifts, I run the risk of alienating students not only from

the academic discourse, but also from themselves.

Thomas Schwandt argues that ‘[S]ocial inquiry is a distinctive praxis, a kind of activity (like teaching)

that in the doing transforms the very theory and aims that guide it’ (Schwandt in Lincoln and Denzin

2000:190). Arguably, similarly, this is a process, door and platform for considering specific practices

in an ES class.

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Chapter 5: ASSESSMENT4

Working with vulnerability in class

Student assessment, as I claim at the end of Chapter 3, is one moment in a pedagogic process. How I

assess my students’ work is connected to how I think about curriculum, how I use feedback to

inform my methods, and how I practice teaching. My teaching strategy includes making the norms of

teaching and learning visible, which means that how I think about curriculum, and how I think about

assessment, is about making the hidden norms visible and noticing how my teaching philosophy of

teaching to transform is embedded in every aspect of my practice. So assessment is part of the loop

of teaching and learning, and is informed by and informs the other aspects of the teaching

encounter.

The products which are the focus of so-called summative assessment (and which largely determine

success or failure of any student) are particular performances which are part of a much wider

context: apart from the personal particularities of each individual student and lecturer, the

performance is made possible (to overlap Butler’s idea of performance with the theatrical one) by

the politics and philosophy which determines how large the stage is, what costumes are available,

who comprises the audience, who directs, who writes the reviews we choose to read, who the

sponsors are, and who writes the script. Arguably, how I assess my students is an important part of

students’ performance as students as well as my performance as teacher, and involves the interplay

between individuals, the norms which prescribe assessment, and how students understand and

translate these norms into assessment tasks which determine whether they pass or fail. Similarly,

this portfolio is an assessment task of the PG Dip (HE), and despite very clear learning outcomes and

guidance, it is a complex interplay of my relationship with myself, with the knowledge we have

worked with, with the norms that determine whether I pass or fail. I have translated these norms in

order to produce this task, and my translations might or might not be in accordance with the

intentions of those who taught the course. So in considering assessment, these various aspects of

individual students and teachers and their dynamic relationships with the norms and with each

other are important aspects to consider.

So arguably, when summative assessment tasks are set for students, and even if and when lecturers

are open about or overtly aware of exactly what it is that is required, students perform what

4 Part of this section was submitted as an assignment of the PG Dip (HE), and later reworked for a conference, and finally accepted as a chapter in the book: Beyond the Apartheid University: critical voices on transformation in the university sector. Editor: Gideon De Wet. Alice: University of Fort Hare Press 2013.

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they/we think is the right thing, perhaps to find that we/they have fallen far short of the mark,

because of individual translations of the norms, or because of a “hidden curriculum” which has not

been made visible, intentionally or unintentionally. Sambell and McDowell argue that ‘[A]t a general

level students hear and understand the explicit communication about assessment offered by their

lecturers but they are also aware of the embodied sub-texts and have their own individual

perspectives all of which come together to produce many variants on a hidden curriculum’ (Sambell

and McDowell 1998: 400). Arguably, their individual perspectives are, as Sambell and McDowell

claim, influenced by their performances and experiences in other assessment tasks. Where the types

of schools which Rhodes students have attended offer widely differing assessment practices,

students’ individual perspectives, and thus their performances, are irregular - as Sambell and

McDowell argue, ‘[I]n an important sense our research problematises assessment, because it

suggests that students, as individuals, actively construct their own versions of the hidden curriculum

from their experiences and typifications of assessment. This means that the outcomes of assessment

'as lived' by students are never entirely predictable, and the quest for a 'perfect' system of

assessment is, in one sense, doomed from the outset’ (ibid: 401). My approach to assessment in ES

classes is aware of this uncertainty, in order to find ways in which to instil self-assessment practices

which will be helpful to students whatever their previous experiences were or their future tasks will

be.

At least once a week, students will write some sort of assessment task in ES – not all of these will be

marked by me (some are marked by themselves, some in groups, some by a peer), but they are all

part of the teaching and learning process in ES, in order to provide the students with opportunities

to learn the hidden and visible criteria which are used in their mainstream classes to assess their

performances (Appendix 3 contains examples of students’ assessed work). In order to compile a

term mark, I use about three of these tasks in order to arrive at a mark. The ES marks do not count

as credits, and are used as a guide only if students have failed their mainstream subjects, in order for

the Dean or Registrar to decide whether to accept their appeals against exclusion. So assessment in

ES is much more about a process of learning to self-assess.

Students and teachers are, Freire claims, ‘jointly responsible for a process in which all grow’ (Freire

1972:61). He concludes this idea with the notion that ‘education is thus constantly remade in the

praxis. In order to be, it must become’ (ibid: 64).In practice, the reconciliation of the teacher-student

contradiction is a daily navigation of boundaries – between activist and citizen, between teacher and

student, between mother and child, between professional and private. I have between 24 and 30

students a year, and I see them four days a week for at least a double period. I also see them

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individually twice a term. I see them daily in the library or downstairs in the café in between class,

with colleagues or my children (also students at Rhodes). I see them on facebook, in the

supermarket. I have visited them in hospital, in jail, at home when their grandmother dies. So part of

the challenge in the classroom is to make visible the ways of being and knowing that occur, in order

to highlight non-convergence, and in order to expand how things can be known – for teacher and

student - ‘so that one might know the very ruptures of narrativity, the founding violence of an

episteme‘(Butler in Butler, Laclau and Žižek 2000: 37).

ES classes, especially those which are offered to augment mainstream academic subjects (in this

case, Sociology 1 and Political 1) are arguably not content driven in the same way that their

mainstream counterparts are. As will be explained in more detail in Chapter 6 on Curriculum, I

attend the mainstream classes with my students, and use the double-period augmentation classes to

explore ideas generated in and from the mainstream classes. This state of fluidity – rather than a

more fixed space with set curricula and assessment processes planned in advance – lends itself to

interpretation and unique translation. If ES classes are not mainstream, but also not necessarily

separate and complete courses (as mentioned, while students are required to attend and “pass” ES

courses in order to progress, they bear no credits for degree purposes), the course falls between

courses, and allows us to explore not only the separateness of Sociology and Politics as disciplines,

but the connections between them, and how discourses and “discursivity” are structured. The ES

class is an opportunity to see the constructedness of all knowledge and discourse. It becomes

Bhabha’s hybrid space (see Chapter 3) where we can mimic and mock, develop new ways of knowing

the knowledge produced in the mainstream classes, and critique the notion of knowledge

production. We can do this in a context of recognising and initiating individual dynamics with

specific and general knowledge production, and noticing and renegotiating vulnerability, as is

explored in this study.

ES classes then, are responsive to the mainstream classes in terms of content. It is a critical space, in

that an ES class will often begin with critiquing the previous (or previous week’s) mainstream class –

not only in terms of content, but also in terms of how it was facilitated by the lecturer, and individual

responses to the ideas which were introduced. We can, in ES, explore challenges and perceptions of

how the mainstream lecturer teaches, as well as the concepts he/she teaches, as well as our own

responses to the process. By so doing, the ES students gain an understanding of the methods which

a lecturer uses, contrast this with other lecturers, think about challenges and opportunities in each

lecturer style, gain self-knowledge about the kinds of preferences and barriers to one’s own

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assimilation and production of knowledge, in order to gain epistemological access to the content the

lecturer is conveying.

Similarly, assessment work which we undertake in ES can also have this meta status. In contrast to

“summative” and “formative” definitions of assessment (Yorke 2001:12) assessment as

transformation is many things at once. It is summative and formative, while critiquing and

translating both, and the individual student is provided with a platform to determine what else it

should be. An example will serve to illustrate: As part of the summative assessment of the Politics 1

class, students are required to write an essay on one of five topics, and which counts 20% of their

year mark for this component of the term-long course. The topics are provided in the first lecture,

providing plenty of time to read the required readings, and submit a draft essay to me. As a first step

to this assessment process, we discuss the various essay topics in ES class early in the term. Students

are invited to share what they think each topic means, and what answering the essay will entail. This

shared discussion requires all students to engage with the topics, through their own verbal

contributions, or through my asking individuals for their opinions and challenges. While these sorts

of class discussions often lead to certain more confident students taking up much of the time, the

conversation in the class is followed by a number of members who do not contribute, but participate

vicariously in the debate. Northedge refers to this kind of learning and participation as one with

‘blurred boundaries’, where the participants might generate debates that are accessed by non-

participants – he goes on to assert that vicarious learners sometimes have a better grasp of the

concepts than those who generate discussions (Northedge 2003: 19,20). As I come to know the class

through things they have written or through individual interviews, I can begin to know which quiet

members of the class are participating vicariously, and which are just not getting it. In order to

accommodate the latter, I try to ensure that I “translate” contributions from the class – say what

they have said in a different way, or ask for someone else to say the same thing in a different way.

This section of the process emphasises students opinions – what the topic means, its relevance in

South Africa, how it is framed, whether it looks difficult or not, stories individuals have about their

experience of the topic, how each topic alludes to particular theories, what the challenges are in

addressing the topic. In a way, this process critiques and reconstitutes the normative framework of

the task.

The second step of this process is individual. Students are invited to consider the topics on their

own, and in the next ES class, are placed in groups according to the topics they have chosen (the

third step in the process). Many in the ES class are resistant to group work. Early in the year I explain

the benefits of group work, (through a guided brainstorming session) and what each member of the

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group needs to do in order to contribute to and benefit from working in groups. Despite this, it

contradicts a norm which is an unspoken guide in higher education – individualistic work, where

plagiarism is taboo, and competition is encouraged. I insert a different norm into ES classes: the fact

that I am because you are, intrinsically linked through our different and shared experiences,

impacting the environments and people which impact us. This notion of “ubuntu” might form part of

the students’ domestic or political world, but is difficult to navigate in a university context if it isn’t

made visible. Before we embark on a group work activity then, we will remind ourselves in class of

why we are doing group work, and how the unique contributions, including of those who do not

understand the work, can and must contribute to the expanded understanding of all members. This

sets a stage for student performances, with their input into how the stage is structured.

For each essay topic, a number of readings are set in order to understand and answer the question.

In groups, students are encouraged to share these readings – which are divided between group

members, who read and summarise them, in order to share with the rest of the group. This provides

each individual, who is ultimately required to write their own essay for the mainstream lecturer,

with an overview of the types of readings as well as some of the content. Students will tell each

other which readings were difficult, or by their failure to do so, which readings proved unreadable.

So students know, through this engagement with others, what the challenges are for them

individually when they have to write their own essays.

Once the groups have shared their readings, they are encouraged to gauge connections and

differences between them – and begin to structure the contributions the readings will have to their

essays. Again, this is set as a group task, but has relevance for their individual work, which is the fifth

step in the process. Once groups have shared readings, looked for connections and differences, and

started to structure their essays, they are required to write the body of the essay individually and

hand it in to me. For this fifth part of the process, students are asked to leave out the introduction

and conclusion, and focus on the readings as contributions to the essay. I explain that I will be

looking for: whether they have understood the readings, been able to extract relevance from them,

and are able to order them in substantive paragraphs which illustrate their relevance to the topic, by

noticing the connections and differences between them.

Epistemological access – a reciprocal process

I see epistemological access as a reciprocal process, if it is part of teaching and learning as

transformation. If the ES class is set up to provide a wider range of students with epistemological

access to the university – in other words, special help in order to provide students with the

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knowledge tools which they need in order to understand, produce and work with content

knowledge in each discipline, their success in the university is determined by whether the university

adjusts its platforms to be inclusive of a wider range of students. Here my role as ES lecturer is

pivotal. If I merely accept the norms which are provided in assessment and teaching practices in

mainstream, I will use ES classes to shape ES students into what is expected of them in mainstream,

without acknowledging who else they are. This could lead to the melancholic process referred to

earlier in Chapter 3: where students then internalise their own vulnerability and who else they are

which is not acknowledged in the mainstream process, and act out a “confidence” which refuses to

recognise vulnerability. It might mean that I would merely correct what is wrong with their essays,

rather than finding where and how they made connections with the topic. Constructing

epistemological access as reciprocal, means providing the mainstream lecturers with insight into

what the ES students are experiencing – and there are, arguably, a number of mainstream students

who struggle as much as ES students in their first year. So I ensure that I make contact with each of

their lecturers before and/or during the term, in order to explain their challenges – it is up to the

lecturers then to use this information to adjust their teaching styles or assessment practices. It also

has significance for how I assess their work.

Explaining that the ES assessment process is different to the majority of mainstream, allowing us

into the metaspace of thinking critically about assessment in terms of preferences, styles, barriers,

challenges and opportunities, I engage with each essay on a very individual basis: rather than search

the essay for ways in which it complies with what is expected, I look for individual learning, writing

and understanding techniques. In addition to this, I ask that students, before handing their scripts to

me, give themselves a percentage based on how well they think they have done. This gives some

insight into the lag between their understanding of their own contribution, and what is expected in

the essay by the mainstream lecturer. I then set up individual appointments with each student, to go

over their work. The time we spend together in individual sessions are vital to allay fears and to

learn what can be learnt – I can ask for clarification where it seems as though the student doesn’t

understand, and the student can explain, in a more relaxed setting, what they were trying to say.

We also discuss the mark they gave themselves, and at the end of the session they are invited to

adjust this mark to reflect the new insight they have gained from the exercise. Where the mark

differs widely from what I would have given them, we can discuss our differences, and negotiate a

mark which is mutually agreeable. This is an important part of the process: firstly, the mark we

negotiate might bear no resemblance to what the mainstream lecturer will give them, and I make

this clear – this is an in-between space, where a process is measured, and not an event; secondly, it

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is an opportunity for me to gain epistemological access into who they think they are, and to animate

for us both the “non-convergence” in order to increase our accommodation of each other; and

thirdly, it assists their own construction of who they are in relation to norms, which can be adjusted

(through working with the essay, and mutual clarification) in order to increase their sense of self in a

critical environment – in other words, to expand the range of subjectivities provided by the

normative framework.

There are other ways to ensure that learning becomes the joint responsibility of students and

teachers, and where students take this responsibility and share it with each other. In another

assessment exercise, students went through a different process. Firstly, they were required to write

a paragraph on Hobbes’ social contract. They brought these to class, typed, with only their student

numbers on top. I took these in, and then handed them out to groups of three, so that each group

had three anonymous scripts to mark. For this part of the process, I drew up a memo which we

discussed in class, and provided a marking grid. The students marked their peers work in their

groups and then handed them back. Once these had been handed back; students were asked to

write the next part of the essay, which was a discussion of the function of the UN organs, which are

based on Hobbes’ contract theory. Once again, they typed these up, and brought them to class. In

class we drafted a memo together, and each student was given an anonymous script to take home

and mark, and asked to provide comments. Once these were handed back the next day, students

were asked to write the full essay, email it to me, and I marked them in depth and emailed them

back. In class, I discussed common problems, and also invited students to see me if they had further

queries. I devised a feedback form which allowed them to reflect on the whole process and provide

comments. Some of these include:

Most importantly it helped me to see what it was I was doing wrong or right and what to

correct and do it differently… the process was helpful because I was conscious of the

mistakes I saw in other papers and I tried not to do them and I also tried to implement what

I saw as helpful. (Liddy 2013)

The best thing for me was marking each others’ work, I got to understand some of the

concepts that weren’t clear to me, I got to share my knowledge and interpretation of

concepts and the readings with fellow classmates… When you read someone’s work you

approach the subject/topic at hand from their understanding which is interesting…I thought

the process was helpful because on my own I would not have fully grasped nor understood

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the concept the paradox, getting feedback that was constructive sharpened my

understanding (Lunga 2013)

..it was a great opportunity for me to get an insight of how others went about writing their

essays and also looked for ways in which I could help better mine… it was a learning

experience…it taught me how to critique my work and how to structure my essay…it made

me feel more confident about my essay and the feedback helped me to restructure my essay

where it was needed (Brian 2013)

So my assessment practices are necessary linked to the evaluation of my teaching and students’

learning – it is not sufficient from students merely to complete assessment tasks, but to reflect on

these, in order to “own” what it is that they learn from them. These kinds of student feedback

instruments are useful for me and for them, to ensure that learning is taking place, and to alert me

to what KIND of learning is taking place.

Assessment in ES then, is a process, which could, I argue, lead to the transformation from an

individual student at risk, to an emerging scholar; and the transformation of a teacher, who has an

idea of what is expected, into a facilitator who can animate non-convergence in order to bring about

transformation.

This kind of teaching and assessment is not necessarily practical in mainstream classes of over 400

students: it is intensive and time-consuming; it demands much more of the teacher than knowledge

of content; it compels a knowledge which is not only outside of oneself, but of oneself – a journey

which not many are willing or able to undertake. But the benefits are immense. Even if an ES student

fails the mainstream essay (and some do), the process we have been through in the ES class ensures

that a significant moment has been experienced, that new knowledge has been generated, and an

accommodated sense of self, even though vulnerable in the mainstream, has been nurtured by a

careful acknowledgement of each individual’s contribution. Very few, if any, of my students fail my

ES tasks – not because they fully grasp the tasks that are set for them in mainstream, but because a

reciprocal understanding is established between us, a reconciliation and ‘solution of the teacher-

student contradiction’ (Freire 1972: 53). This new knowledge which is produced in us both, will

inevitably affect our further encounters, rendering them meaningful because of an increased

understanding of and between teacher and student. If I was not also willing to learn and adjust my

own normative framework, I would limit not only how much I could gain from the experience, but

how much of themselves students could make visible in this, and other, learning encounters.

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Assessment in this context then, is part of transformation. It is reciprocal, not only through ES

students’ regular evaluations of me and my teaching style, but through the kinds of encounters that

take care to understand individual contexts and ways of learning, such as assessment processes

described above. This kind of teaching and learning animates transformativity, and suggests a

process which Butler succinctly prescribes: ‘to ask for recognition, or to offer it, is precisely not to

ask for recognition for what one already is. It is to solicit a becoming, to investigate a transformation,

to petition the future always in relation to the other’ (Butler 2004: 44).

This future, always in relation to the other, is not without its challenges. The kind of assessment

practices I employ with my students relies heavily on relationship – my relationship with the

students, and theirs with me or each other. Because our assessment practices are quite different

from what they do in mainstream, it means I need to constantly remind them of this, and ensure

that they understand that ours is a much more formative way of doing it. Is it fair to do this to them,

to place on them this extra burden of doing something differently, when many of them already

struggle with the summative assessment which they have to do in mainstream? By the end of the

year, when we are awaiting the final exam results, I am a mess of anxiety, wondering if my approach

will have helped them to achieve what they need to in mainstream subjects. So far they have – each

year, about 3 of my students are excluded because they have failed both mainstream courses, and in

most cases these have been reaccepted after appealing against exclusion. But this way of

approaching assessment, while it is, I believe, employing life-long learning principles, is risky, and

perhaps makes me and the students vulnerable. It is time-consuming, and there are times in the

year when I feel my energy flagging. When this happens, we resort to other kinds of assessment

practices – for instance, writing tests with clear right or wrong answers. My students sense, I think,

that I do not value these kinds of methods as much though, and the onus is on them to learn what

they will or must from these more traditional ways of assessment. While the students and I take

these processes seriously, their ES marks are high – much higher than their mainstream marks. I

wonder if this leads to them not being taken seriously by, for instance, the Dean, who will scrutinise

these marks when it comes to making his decisions around appeals against exclusion. I am still

learning, still developing, and will continue to question how I do things, and read and reflect on

assessment in order to keep growing. For now though, I believe that this is the best way to do things.

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Chapter 6: CURRICULUM

In the ESU, our extended studies classes (ES Politics and ES Sociology) happen four days a week for a

double period (45min x 2) on each day. Two of these are dedicated to each discipline. For the largest

part, they are entirely responsive to the mainstream curricula in terms of content. What we do with

that though is difficult to articulate as an organised curriculum. It is a complex process of having a

number of fundamental principles at work concurrently while focussing either on a set exercise or a

more fluid responsiveness to a particular lecture, life event, mood or problem. Knight argues for a

‘process approach’ to curriculum, where he argues that ‘it makes better sense to plan curriculum in

this intuitive way, reassured by the claim from complexity theory that what matters is getting the

ingredients— the processes, messages and conditions— right and trusting that good outcomes will

follow’(Knight 2001:379).

If curriculum includes, as Helsby claims, ‘content, organisation, learning and teaching methods, and

assessment’ (Helsby in Knight 2001:369), it cannot be described here as separate from assessment,

or teaching practices: in fact all aspects of the teaching and learning encounter should cohere and

integrate. Knight explains that ‘[O]ne aspect of coherence is that what is planned should be created

(delivered) and that what has been created should be understood (received). A second requires that

curriculum content, organisation, learning and teaching strategies, and assessment arrangements

dovetail with one another’ (Knight 2001: 360). I have no doubt that my curriculum and thus all my

teaching practices cohere, and this is extremely important to me, but I have been challenged to

name the processes that are part of my curriculum approach – certainly not all class encounters

necessarily go according to plan. Morey (2000) offers some ideas around curriculum change in order

to respond to a global and multicultural and changing world. He argues for a ‘transformed

curriculum’ which he explains thus (this is a long quote, but so aptly articulates what I mean that I

felt it necessary to include it all):

‘A transformed course reconceptualizes the field in light of new knowledge, scholarship, and

ways of knowing and thus challenges traditional views and assumptions. Students are

encouraged to analyze content through non-dominant perspectives and to develop new

ways of thinking. The instructor and students share power within the limits of responsibility

and reality and learn from each other. Instructional strategies centre on the experiences and

knowledge that students bring and can include critical pedagogy and issues-oriented

approaches. Alternatives to traditional assessment procedures are employed, including

action-oriented projects, self-evaluation, and reflections on the course. In a transformed

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course, classroom dynamics include the challenging of biased views and the sharing of

diverse perspectives within an environment of mutual respect. Students are equal

participants in the learning process’ (Morey 2000: 29).

In many ways, this explanation describes what happens in ES classes. As this is my fifth year of

teaching in the ESU, I have developed exercises, tests and worksheets over this time, and it is always

gratifying to find these at just the right time when it is appropriate to what they are doing in

mainstream – but these are not always planned, even though in many cases the curricula in

mainstream classes has not changed at all during these five years. Each year brings a different set of

students, of individuals, who respond differently to what happens in mainstream, and so my

“curriculum” adjusts, based on these differences.

The guiding principles that provide the coherence to my curriculum, assessment and teaching

practices could be described as: an ontological engagement with knowledge (which I have described

with examples in Chapter 4 and elsewhere); making the invisible visible – for instance, the assumed

learning, reading, writing and thinking styles and norms that are required in Politics 1 and Sociology

1, which are explored in Chapter 4 and 5; developing a learning community, referred to in the

assessment example in Chapter 5; providing a space to speak and hear new narratives and voices

(examples in Chapter 4); subverting power constructs in the classroom and beyond (Chapter 4);

critical thinking not only about the disciplinary knowledge of Politics and Sociology but indeed all of

life; developing a sense of legitimacy in my students; facilitating self-knowledge about thinking and

learning styles (Chapter 5); managing emotion (see Chapter 4 and 7); locating principles and

concepts of Sociology 1 and Politics 1 in everyday South African life (Chapter 4); encouraging and

supporting vulnerability, in a way that facilitates students’ engagement with their own, and others’

vulnerability.

These guiding principles become the meta-framework that guides our engagement in class on any

given day. Monday and Friday classes are set aside for Sociology ES, and Tuesday and Thursday

classes for Politics ES. Because of the sheer volume of difficult reading in the Politics 1 curriculum,

sometimes our Politics ES class will involve going through a required reading – and then the guiding

principles inform how it is that we do this: by noticing my own reading style and modelling this. So

for instance, I will ask if people understood a passage which has been read, and discuss with them

whether we should read on to see if it becomes clearer, or I will explain how I know that this section

is or is not important to understand; I will invite those who do understand to explain what they think

it means, in order to encourage their voices and trust their impressions, while facilitating the

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‘vicarious’ learning of others (Northedge 2003, see Chapters 4 and 5)); I will admit new insights I

have gained through students’ engagement, disrupting the power construct of teacher knowing

everything; I will explain that the introduction and conclusion of the reading is a guide that outlines

the important aspects of the reading, in an attempt to make the invisible norms of academic writing

more visible; we will try to identify claims and arguments, and see how these are developed and

supported, or not; we will find examples from everyday life that illustrate what the reading is

arguing; and all the time, I will be alert to how students are engaging, who is “elsewhere”, who is

attentive, who is lost. It is a messy, complicated process that is seldom neatly ascribed to a course

outline or definitive guide -.or as Knight claims, ‘what matters is getting the ingredients— the

processes, messages and conditions— right and trusting that good outcomes will follow’ (Knight

2001:379).

Mainstream lecturers, each of whom provides students with a course outline which includes course

outcomes, a programme of lectures, tutorials and assessments etc, are arguably not necessarily

always in touch with the kinds of students that they teach, particularly those who are on the margins

of the normative contexts of mainstream Politics 1 and Sociology 1 classes. As Malnarich argues, a

‘barrier to academic success is the one-size-fits-all approach to learning and assessment that

contributes to the estrangement of students who are expected to adjust to an academic culture not

designed with them in mind, at places where they do not feel at home’ (Malnarich 2005:52). In many

ways this is the case of ES students, and others, who struggle to grasp concepts in a context that

makes assumptions about their prior learning. A number of mainstream students (about 3 a year)

who have heard about ES from students in my class, have asked if they can join sessions with us; and

students in my class tell me that their friends are envious of the work we do in ES that helps to

explain in more depth the concepts that are introduced in mainstream. As I will discuss, the

curriculum reform and flexibility that is recommended by the CHE task team report on curriculum

reform (2013) will require more serious consideration of diversity (of race, gender, education,

background, class) in the content and language of our courses, to ensure that the assumptions we

might have about our students are more and better informed by their lived experiences, as well as a

deep awareness of systemic inequalities in our local and national societies, including universities.

Lazarus (2001) speaks of curriculum responsiveness to societal needs, concluding her paper with the

argument that ‘mechanisms may need to be established to support higher education institutions to

be responsive to societal needs through a scholarship of engagement’ (Lazarus 2001: 10). The CHE

report of the Task Team on Undergraduate Curriculum Structure (2013) supports this idea, and

suggests that ‘[I]mproving educational expertise and the status of teaching in higher education is an

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essential complement to structural curriculum reform’ , in order to improve the success of students

who are currently dropping out for various complex reasons (CHE 2013: 25). This argument is a

response to changing development needs in South Africa, which are the motivations for ‘equity and

development’ goals – where universities are compelled to meet the economic and political needs of

the country by supplying suitably educated graduates – or as Ensor has explained, ‘The NQF and its

structures and processes was intended to steer South Africa along a high skills, high growth path of

economic development which would lay the foundation stones of a new democratic society’ (Ensor

2004: 341); and ‘enhancing graduate quality’, by which students attain an ‘educatedness’ as a

fundamental aspect of ‘entrenching democracy and responsible citizenship’ (CHE 2013: 35,36), or as

Ensor argues, ‘and on the other hand, the pressure to render higher education more responsive to

the local needs and challenges of a country pulling itself away from its apartheid past, in the context

of very real resource constraints’ (Ensor 2004: 341). Ensor argues further for a ‘therapeutic

discourse’ in her discussion of four discourses which shape curriculum restructuring, and claims that

in a therapeutic discourse, ‘this orientation is towards the self rather than towards a body of

knowledge. It allows for a high degree of student discretion over the selection of content and

explicitly eschews vertical relations between adepts and novices in order to prioritise the revealing

of inner competences. This discourse operates within lifeskills and academic orientation

programmes, especially for disadvantaged students, but is not dominant in higher education’ (Ensor

2004: 345). In many ways, as Ensor has argued, the linkage of the Higher Education sector to an NQF

framework – whose aim is to increase the mobility of students between sectors – has led to a

strongly demarcated polarity between what she describes as ‘credit exchange’ or ‘disciplinary

exchange’ approaches. Her ideas around the therapeutic discourse are relevant here, as my teaching

in ES is definitely geared more towards this approach than any of the others she mentions.

Much of the content that is covered in the Politics 1 and Sociology 1 courses are indeed important

and significant aspects of the ‘enhancing graduate quality’ (CHE 2013: 37) kind of education – in

Sociology, students learn the founding principles of socialisation; social stratification and inequality;

social change; and violence and crime. I would argue though that without the lecturer’s

responsiveness to the actual material conditions of South Africa and in particular, in the lives of their

students, these conceptual frameworks do little to challenge students’ notions of themselves as

responsible citizens. Alexander claims that ‘[A]ll students are disadvantaged in some way or another,

and some are obviously more advantaged than others, economically, intellectually, emotionally,

artistically and physically. Surely curriculum theory and educational policy should consider whether,

when and how to address these imbalances’ (Alexander 2005: 362). Each Sociology and Politics

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lecturer in their own way draws on current realities in order to illustrate the theories and concepts

they are teaching, but few openly acknowledge the inequalities, diversity and disadvantage that

exist within our lecture rooms. As Applebaum argues, ‘[B]ecause we cannot escape our social

location, because we always work within social systems and not from an external point of view, we

must continually interrogate our political practices for exclusions and omissions that may be

obscured by our social location’ (Applebaum 2004: 66). So part of my curriculum strategy, in ES

classes as well as in the feminism module that I teach to Sociology 1 in their 3rd term (as part of the

course on social change) is to facilitate an embodiment of knowledge as explained in Chapter 4 with

reference to Dall’Alba and Barnacle (2007: 682), and working with that, so that concepts and

theories are not merely content to be studied and applied to specifically selected examples, but

become part of a usable lens with which the student can explore and explain daily, lived, shifting

reality.

In ES Sociology, and in ES Politics, then, I use the guiding framework of the mainstream lecture

programme, in addition to daily news and local events, to unpack the ideas and concepts that are

presented in mainstream lectures. As explained in each of the previous chapters, my teaching

philosophy entails an ontological engagement with knowledge, and how I approach planning and

organisation of ES classes is influenced by this principle of engagement. This was observed by peer

reviewers, who claimed:

In order to help students understand difficult concepts, she used many familiar examples

that students could relate to. The use of familiar examples helped the students to better

understand the concepts and made it possible for them to think critically about the concepts

as they tried to apply them to reality (Peer review, Ms P. Tanyanyiwa 2012).

This habit of using contemporary examples to explain abstract concepts and theories is also

demonstrated in how I teach the Feminism course in Sociology 1, as these peer reviews indicate:

Corinne thought deeply about the examples used in class, which were provocative moving

from examining the politics of the masculinities that shaped the Marikana massacre, to the

slutwalk national debate of 2011 which shaped much of our student debate here at Rhodes,

to even examining the lack of women professors at Rhodes which really helped students to

recognise the workings of gender at our university today (Peer review, Ms S. Magadla 2012).

You demonstrated the “doing of feminism” by discussing with the class how socio-political

issues of the day related to feminism and what kind of engagement in social issues was

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required for anyone interested in being a feminist / doing feminism. The course provided

students with tools to engage in feminist inquiry (Peer review Dr J. Vorster and Prof L.

Quinn 2012)

Teaching in this way means that each class is a bit of an adventure, and indeed at times our

engagement has taken us literally outside of the classroom. The principle of relating ontologically in

order to gain epistemological understanding means that there are many discussions in class about

what things mean – and this is a process of hearing various people’s impressions and experiences –

in group work, or as a class, or in an individual writing exercise; and then thinking critically about

how these contribute to individual and collective understanding. But when our class engagement

has resonance with what is happening outside of the classroom, we will go there, as a way to

respond to the social world. One year, for instance, the Politics 1 course had introduced us to the

work of Fanon and how his thinking guided various revolutions in the decolonisation project,

including in South Africa. That same week, the Unemployed People’s Movement (UPM) of

Grahamstown held a protest around service delivery and the bucket toilet system that continues to

operate in areas in Grahamstown. Fanon’s approach is unlike a Marxist approach to revolution –

where the educated elite would decide on behalf of the workers what the strategy would be. Fanon

believed that the educated must work with the masses, by hearing firsthand what the issues were,

and then using their theoretical and intellectual understanding of the issues to work with the masses

in achieving their ends. I saw the timely protest as a way to put this into practice, and invited the

class to join the protest with me – which perchance happened during a Friday class session. We

discussed in advance Fanon’s principles of listening, asking questions, and not taking over. For many

of them this was not the first protest they had attended, and the issues expressed by protesters

were similar to their own conditions at home. But some of them were new to this, and nervous of

what could happen – they felt it was risky and potentially dangerous. This opened the discussion to

consider the distance between theory and reality, between town and gown, and how the

vulnerability that students might feel in a protest is similar to the vulnerability that UPM protesters

feel in their daily lives. We attended the protest armed with notebooks, we toy-toyed up the main

street and stood with the UPM crowd outside the city hall. Students mingled with the protesters

asking questions about why they were protesting, what their dissatisfactions were. Some of them

stood more safely with onlookers, watching their peers engage with the protesters. During the next

class, we discussed the experience – we compared what we had learnt about the living conditions of

people living only 5 kms away from our pristine university environment, and what the needs were

that could be theorised and addressed by the more privileged university and its students.

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One student became so enthused and caught up by this process that he joined the UPM, and

became so involved politically that he in fact failed his first year. When, in appealing against his

exclusion, he was called in to discuss this with the DVC, he “blamed” me (both he and the DVC told

me of this with wry irony), because I had, he said, always stressed that theory is hollow if not applied

to real life situations in order to provide progressive explanations and predictions for how to live. He

has become increasingly active politically, and is successfully continuing his studies through UNISA,

and I see this as a successful outcome – inadvertently, our ES class exposed him not only to how

theory applies to the world around him, but the part that he could play in being a responsible and

responsive citizen, exercising his leadership and potential beyond the bounds of a university that

considered him to be a “student at risk”. Arguably, admitting this particular student’s story could be

seen as admittance to failure, and yet I regard it as a success. I would argue that this is precisely

because I teach to transform, as indicated in the introduction to this portfolio – and transformation

as I understand it, is not bounded by the university – it implies the necessary shifts in individuals and

systems to bring about social justice. In terms of curriculum, the fact that a student, through my

teaching intentions and practices, found a niche and purpose for himself outside of the university

classroom, means, for me, that my curriculum coheres, and leads to the embodiment of learning

beyond the university. Arguably though, in terms of teaching norms in the university, where student

success is measured in terms of passing or failing a particular course, the “failure” of this student is

my failure too. This brings to the fore my ambivalence around the notion of student success in

university education, and perhaps my paradox as a teacher: if transformation is my goal, and if

transformation is precisely a change from what one is into something which one cannot necessarily

predict, then this is sometimes at odds with the notion of teaching in order to attain specifically

determined outcomes through specifically organised assessment tasks. The ontological individual is

less visible in this latter approach, and their education for purely personal economic ends is

supported by this focus on outcomes. Despite the idea of “learning outcomes” being developed in

order to facilitate the more just recognition of a diversity of educational courses and strategies, in

order to “widen access” to more previously disadvantaged individuals, unless they remain flexible,

based on who their students are, from where and for what purpose, they will merely serve as a

bureaucratic measure and instrument which fails to genuinely facilitate transformation. Hussey and

Smith support this idea, arguing that ‘[L]earning outcomes, and the ideas related to them, are in

danger of becoming little more than spurious devices to facilitate auditing at the expense of the

educational process’ and can damage the teaching process ‘if seen as precise prescriptions that must

be spelled out in detail before teaching can begin and which are objective and measurable devices

suitable for monitoring educational practices’ (Hussey and Smith 2002: 222). Although Hussey and

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Smith’s critique of learning outcomes is confined to the use of them at primary and secondary school

usage, I agree with their claim that ‘it is neither practical nor useful to try to specify learning

outcomes with the kind of precision that is being sought: they will remain ambiguous whatever

descriptors are used’ (ibid: 225).

How I have spoken about curriculum in this chapter needs to be seen alongside the other chapters in

order to fully demonstrate my understanding of what a curriculum is and does. Arguably, by noticing

ways in which my curriculum does not necessarily adhere to set principles and outcomes puts me in

the margins of the teaching norms of the university. In the university, success is measured narrowly:

whether students pass or fail. I don’t argue with this, and understand that the economic investment

into higher education, and into student support such as is offered to ESU students, needs economic

return. But if our aim in universities is merely to provide individuals with the means to better

themselves, we are missing the point of the university as a ‘public good (Badat and Singh 2001). If

our aim is not also an awareness of the need to inspire collective care, collective progress as a

country, then surely we are failing in our task. If our teaching in the humanities and my teaching in

ES is not also to inspire greater humanity or humane-ness, as a collective responsibility, then surely

we are failing. And if our curricula do not remain flexible in order to meet the diversity in our

classrooms, then surely we are failing.

Despite working with my classes intensely in a formative capacity, I am never particularly sure how

well my students will do in their end of year exams, and usually spend the December break in a state

of nervous anxiety until results are released. I track their progress through their mainstream course

assessments during the year, and I asses them through weekly writing tasks, but as I explain in the

Chapter 5 on Assessment, students rarely fail my tasks – I measure a process, and my aim is to meet

students as individuals in their assessment tasks in ES, and it is very difficult for me to fail anyone in

these tasks. Up until now, my students have tended to achieve slightly better in relation to their

mainstream counterparts – so where, for instance, 25% of mainstream students might fail Sociology,

perhaps 20% of my class would fail, etc. But because my curriculum is based on principles that are

less measurable, and because working with ontology and vulnerability is necessarily impacted by

systemic problems in the university and in society, I measure my success in random ways – so for

instance, a conversation I have with a student during an individual consultation, or hearing one ask a

question in a mainstream class, or noticing the status of a student on facebook which applies

political theory to a current news event, or when one of my students is successful in becoming a sub-

warden or chair of a society, or even when a student manages to put full-stops and write shorter

sentences even if they don’t yet make sense – these are my daily successes. This attitude to

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curriculum is risky – firstly, it falls outside of the norms with which teaching can be measured; and

secondly, as an assertion in this portfolio, which will not only decree my successful completion of the

PG Dip (HE) but also is a condition of my tenure, it could work against my success in these two aims.

But I hope I have managed to assert the deep sense of responsibility I feel about my students, and

the success that they hope for themselves, and that it demonstrates a cohesive and legitimate

approach to curriculum.

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Chapter 7: EVALUATION5

In this chapter, I refer to evaluation as self-study, and use the terms as interchangeable for the

purposes of this discussion. Because the courses I “present” are so intrinsically tied to the

relationships between me, my students, and the knowledge with which we work, when I ask

students to provide feedback on the courses (ES politics and ES Sociology), in effect, I am asking

them for feedback on me – how I have presented, and engaged them, in the particular course; and

their feedback also gives me insight about them: how they perceive and experience what we do in

class, and what this tells me about them. When I ask peers for feedback on my teaching, again, it is

inevitably feedback on myself I seek: I do not regard any course in which I teach as separate from my

teaching philosophy, assessment practices and teaching methods – in other words, myself;

ultimately what I seek when I ask for feedback is to close the loop between all the aspects of the

teaching encounter, in order to seek coherence and integration.

Self-study is more than mere reflection on one’s practice, as I will argue. It is a process of reflection,

soliciting feedback from a variety of sources, using these to consider how my practice is being

“translated” by those who form part of my classes, aligning these with my intentions, and using peer

and student feedback, along with literature in the field, to explain and predict if, how and why my

teaching coheres. Because, as I have explained in previous chapters, I teach to transform, I use

feedback from others not only to let me know what it is I want to or need to transform, but to

measure ways in which my project is successful. As I have argued, the broad principles that guide my

teaching are: a concern with the ontology of my students, and the embodiment of knowledge;

working with vulnerability; making the invisible visible. The feedback I solicit from my students is

thus a vital aspect of ensuring that I keep learning from them, and that my practice remains relevant

to their experience and needs; and the feedback I solicit from my peers is to gauge how well I

translate the norms of teaching in my practice. Keet, Zinn and Porteus (2009) argue for ‘Mutual

vulnerability’ which implies an opening up of the relationship between teacher and students, and

teacher and peers. They claim that ‘enhanced teaching and learning is possible by first confronting

and then transcending the adversarial and polemical logic of differentiated, asymmetrical frames of

meaning and actions’(Keet et al 2009:100) which coheres with my intention to make the invisible

norms more visible. ‘Central’ they claim further, ‘to “mutual vulnerability” is the pedagogical process

that allows teachers and other authority figures to open up and render their frames vulnerable for

5 Part of this section was submitted to Perspectives in Education for a special edition on Self-study. It is undergone per review, and has had recommendations suggested. If my changes are accepted, it will be published in July 2014.

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learners and students to risk their full participation in the pedagogical transaction. Through this full

participation other frames and default-drives are dislodged which in turn makes them accessible to

critical reflection and moderation through educationally driven processes’ (Keet et al2009: 110)

I solicit feedback from my students as an integral part of my teaching practice (see Appendix 3 for

further examples) – at least once a term, but also for instance at the end of a particular process

(such as an assessment task, as illustrated in Chapter 6) or after an event (such as a volatile

discussion, which might have upset some students). I always feed back to the students what it is that

I have discovered from their observations and reflections, so that they are very aware that I value

what they have said, and use it to inform how I teach in their classes. I have felt less eager to solicit

feedback from my peers (see Appendix 2 for 3 peer reviews), and have tried to figure out why this is

– perhaps it has to do with an awareness that my colleagues are busy, and I realise the time and care

it takes to provide useful feedback (having provided such myself to three of my colleagues); but

importantly, I realise that inviting peers to observe and comment on my classes induces

vulnerability. This is an important realisation for me, especially since I encourage vulnerability in

class, and it does perhaps help me to understand the risk avoidance behaviour in my students.

Because, as I have explained, I consider myself to be on the margins of the normative framework

which defines and determines teaching, I am nervous of exposing myself to my peers. While I believe

in what I do, and regard it as valuable, the relationships I encourage with my students are not usual

or normal in the Rhodes environment, and without understanding the full scope of my teaching

philosophy, are peers able to translate my approach with full insight? That being said, the peers who

have provided me with feedback have been generous, perceptive and extremely kind. They have

affirmed me, and helped to make visible or to challenge some of the aspects of my teaching that I

had not yet admitted to myself. I believe that I am a good teacher, and yet, with this belief is the

constant doubt that I am achieving the very high standards that I set for myself. I would argue that

this process of knowing, but simultaneously not-yet-knowing is, as I have explained earlier, the

necessarily generative aspect of learning, and that even though I receive positive feedback from

peers or from students, that this is never the reason to stop doubting, to stop learning, and

changing. The PG Dip (HE) has exposed me not only to literature that explains the value of

evaluation, but also how to find new literature, and how to develop new ideas around feedback and

its relation to self-study. What follows is a discussion of self-study, using some peer and student

feedback and analysis of this to demonstrate what I mean in the discussion. There is so much more

to say though, and the student feedbacks in Appendix 3 provide further examples of the kinds of

feedback I solicit, without an evaluation of how I have used these to inform my teaching, merely

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because I have needed to put a limit on how much it is viable to share in this portfolio. Arguably

though, the principles which I discuss here will demonstrate that I can and do use student feedback

on a regular basis and for what purpose, even though I don’t go into detail about how this happens

with some of the examples in the Appendix.

Self-study as a methodology could (and does, in this study) use data that illuminates one or a few

individuals’ experiences and perspectives; and could use this perspective to explore principles and

ideas with broader applicability. In this chapter, self study is a process which tries to show the

connection between ontology and epistemology. I strive to access these perspectives using

qualitative methods of interviews, auto ethnography, and peer- and student- observations and

feedback–to illuminate unvoiced individual experience, in order to recognise and clarify ways of

being, doing, and acting (ontology) that generate or inhibit knowing and knowledge (epistemology).

Not everyone agrees with the validity of using these kinds of research methods – for instance, Mats

Alvesson (2003) warns that users of these methods sometimes naively claim to capture experience,

while in fact they might merely allude to a reality which is constructed by the researcher and

researched, following guidelines established by research traditions. He suggests five ways to

overcome this, particularly where the researcher is an insider (as I am in self-study research) –

including self-irony, challenging common-sense theoretically, having a broad ‘interpretive

repertoire’, using a meta-level position to use one’s own choices and research practice as a target

for interpretation , and the shifting of positions and orientations in order to avoid bias. He concludes

that ‘the researcher needs to engage in an ambitious struggle with his/her personal and cultural

framework’ (Alvesson 2003: 189), and arguably this is part of my challenge as a teacher who is

oriented towards social justice. The methodology of using my own practice, of choosing which

aspects to emphasize for which ends, makes me potentially vulnerable to the scrutiny of my peers,

as well as vulnerable to the politics of self-protection and bias – which is possibly a ‘melancholic’

response to vulnerability as explained in Chapter 3, and the current chapter demonstrates this

possibility of self-scrutiny and vulnerability as a ‘resource for politics’ (Butler 2004: 30), for instance

the politics of social justice education.

Self-study’s tools of peer and student feedback which I explore here necessarily induce vulnerability.

Mann argues that ‘we need to be alert to our own positional power, and the complex relations of

power that exist within the educational and teaching/learning processes’ (Mann 2001: 17), and so if I

research my own practice, I am encouraged to explore how others are affected by my teaching, in

order to understand it and change it if necessary. This means opening up my practice to the honest

feedback of others which is a risky process that can not only destabilise how I know myself, but can

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disrupt the balance of power inherent in how teaching and learning are framed, and how I relate to

other teachers, and my students. This vulnerability, I argue, is a powerful possibility for

transformation and re-imagining a just pedagogy– not only to the teacher engaged in self study, but

for teachers and students as they navigate the knowledge project of the university.

I regard self study as a profoundly important aspect of the knowledge project of the university, in

that as lecturers and students, we work with knowledge, and it is the “we” and the “knowledge” that

are vital components of the dynamic relationship of teaching and learning, and teachers and

learners. Knowledge creation, arguably a fundamental process and purpose of universities, for

instance the “research-intensive” university in which I teach, relies on a particular relationship

between knowledge and knowers. As Barnett explains, ‘learning at the level of higher education is at

least as much an ontological matter as it is an epistemological matter’, for instance when it is ‘a kind

of autobiographical learning (where one associates the learning with one’s own projects)’ (Barnett

2011: 11), such as self study and praxis. Praxis is understood here as the process of noticing and

recognising the relationship between ontology (as lived, embodied experience) and epistemology (as

what and how we know) in an engaged and active way. Louie, Drevdahl, Purdy et al (2003) claim that

when self-study is undertaken to ‘advance theoretical knowledge, they [faculty members] connect

their work with existing knowledge and theory in the field, engaging in “praxis” that is the core of

knowledge creation’ (Louie, Drevdahl, Purdy et al 2003: 165). Knowledge creation that is oriented

towards social justice involves shifts in how I think and know, as a teacher and learner, as framed in

the university by practices and theories that arguably might work against social justice. ‘Change’,

argues Barbara Applebaum, ‘is possible because of the instability of symbolic and discursive norms’

(Applebaum 2004: 65), suggesting that the ideas of social justice, and of teaching and learning, can

and arguably should keep expanding as we perform and think them. This expansion is, as I have

argued earlier, a fraught process that involves the potential loss of sometimes dearly held beliefs

about myself or my environment, in order to create new knowledge – but by its nature, arguably,

knowledge always involves this kind of instability and uncertainty, and so learning to live and work

with vulnerability is a necessary component of learning and creating new knowledge.

Furman argues that praxis is key to social justice leadership in education, and defines praxis as two

dimensional – intrapersonal and interpersonal – and involving ‘the continual, dynamic, interaction

among knowledge acquisition, deep reflection, and action…with the purpose of transformation and

liberation’ (Furman 2012: 203). I understand self-study as a process of praxis, which Freire aptly

describes as ‘learning to perceive social, political, and economic contradictions and to take action

against the oppressive elements of reality’ (Freire in Furman 2012:202). Praxis then, oriented

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towards social justice education, is the thoughtful action that is the result of self-study and reflection

on past action; the recognition of/resistance to/ and re-imagining of the norms that frame me as a

teacher and with which I frame my students – those assumptions I have that I need to let go in order

to know something new.

Soliciting peer feedback for the purpose of self-study is a way to make one vulnerable – in relation to

the other, and with the theoretical orientation used above, this vulnerability can be reconfigured to

become a useful way to transform. If I am willing to open my practices to peers, with clear

understanding of what I am looking for, I am also willing to risk vulnerability in order to know myself

and my students in new ways. So, for example, I teach a feminism course to Sociology 1 students,

and I asked a peer (an academic colleague) to observe my teaching and to provide feedback on

whether and how I worked with vulnerability in the class. As the peer noted in her introduction to

her feedback report, feminism, which works with ways in which our lives are historically and

systemically structured by patriarchy and the ongoing oppression of women, is precisely one of

those knowledge spaces where non-convergence is necessary and a possibility for transformation

and social justice. The peer noted:

‘I was also glad to attend Corinne’s classes because I’ve found that the one or two lectures

that I’m able to dedicate to feminist theory of International Relations to be one of the most

daunting as students appear more resistant towards feminist theory than other theories I

introduce them to’ (peer feedback 2012: Siphokazi Magadla).

By inviting the peer to observe my class and provide honest feedback, I invite my own vulnerability

to her, in order to transform those aspects of myself that hinder social justice education in my class,

and in order to affirm ways in which I promote social justice in order to strengthen them. Because

the peer was oriented towards what I was trying to achieve with my class, her insights helped to

make the invisible norms in my class visible. In the first place, the peer noticed a prevailing norm in

our classrooms, and articulated this in a way that resonated with my own sense:

‘I am often simply enraged at the thoughtlessness of some of my academic colleagues in the

classroom especially in terms of being aware that the examples we use in class determine

our own racial, sexual and class orientations. In this university those examples often reflect a

white, male, middle class, heterosexual view of the world’ (peer feedback 2012: Siphokazi

Magadla)

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The gendered, classed and raced norms that operate in many classrooms are thus made visible by

this peer. She goes on to notice ways in which my teaching circumvented this norm:

‘ It was a positive experience to see that Corinne thought deeply about the examples used in

class, which were provocative moving from examining the politics of the masculinities that

shaped the Marikana massacre, to the slutwalk national debate of 2011 which shaped much

of our student debate here at Rhodes, to even examining the lack of women professors at

Rhodes which really helped students to recognise the workings of gender at our university

today’ (peer feedback 2012: Siphokazi Magadla).

Here the peer notices the non-convergence of norms between what is usually done, and what was

done in this particular class- disrupting the status quo and challenging established comfort zones.

This non-convergence can induce vulnerability, in that it goes against the grain of what students are

used to. But when the vulnerability is seen as a productive resource for transformation, it can lead to

important shifts in the normative framework. The peer reviewer provides insight into how this

happens:

‘This level of engagement with students requires a high level of vulnerability on the lecturer

which is why I suspect most academics choose the easier less involved examples, but

Corinne’s ability to locate herself honestly as a feminist at Rhodes was both a provocative

and a vulnerable move I would argue. It was provocative in the sense that often especially at

the undergraduate level there is pressure for lectures not to put pressure on students to

choose a particular worldview meaning that our job then is simply to give our students the

‘menu’ of knowledge making as shaped by different theories without making suggestions on

which ‘item’ in the menu we would actually prefer for ourselves. It was thus provocative for

Corinne to choose to challenge this order of business and locate herself as a feminist theorist

and activist. It was also a vulnerable move because it allowed students to challenge her on

how she makes the transition from the theoretical to the empirical. For me it is exactly this

provocativeness and vulnerability that made this course most enjoyable for the students.

Right in front of them was a woman ‘doing’ the work of feminism while at once making

sense of the discourses that shapes feminism today!’ (peer feedback 2012: Siphokazi

Magadla)

This peer’s reflection on my teaching provides me with a way to notice my own vulnerability in ways

I had not thought about, and in a way then becomes a way for vulnerability to be reconfigured as

powerful.

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Student feedback can also highlight the tension inherent in vulnerability, and to encourage students

to make themselves vulnerable is a task with enormous risk – if students do not feel sheltered, their

feedback will be self-protective. To encourage students to be honest with me, about me, means that

norms must be established, through various other teaching encounters, which will firstly legitimise

their honesty, by taking seriously what we say to each other and trying to understand each other

and ourselves in daily classroom meetings and practices; secondly, behaviour that models the notion

that criticism is not fatal, and that managing and taking on and inviting the criticism of others can be

a profoundly useful and meaningful process; thirdly, and related to this point, norms need to be

established that protect students from needing to deal with or in any way suffer from my reaction to

criticism, where this idea is established through other encounters where people are respected with

honesty, to enormous mutual benefit and even enjoyment; and finally, norms that allow us all into

the unpredictable space that is possible when we respond to loss (of naivety, of who I thought I was,

compared to new things I might have to learn about myself) along the lines of Butler’s mourning

process, rather than melancholy, as discussed in Chapter 3.

Arguably, every time a student writes a test or assignment (including my writing of this portfolio), we

make ourselves vulnerable, but this vulnerability is not necessarily recognised, leading to a

melancholic fear of it, which inhibits learning. By modelling vulnerability in my teaching practices,

and for instance by inviting honest feedback, and by demonstrating to students that openness is one

way to keep learning new things, it can encourage students to take similar risks. So, I tend to think of

student feedback as a process of inverting and expanding the norms in the classroom, creating a

scenario where students have power over me as a teacher, and which could increase my

vulnerability – by encouraging students to be honest in their critique of my teaching, I am inviting

new knowledge about who I am, in a way that disrupts the power I have over their respect for me.

But when my own vulnerability has been demonstrated openly in class, feedback can also

demonstrate ways in which students could viably use the opportunity to make themselves

vulnerable too. So as a start, student feedback can reveal the struggles that students are

experiencing in and for themselves– for example, this student’s feedback to me revealed her

aspirations:

‘If only I could understand whatever is being taught to me and the way things are done here

and also adapt easily then things would be great’ (Noma 2012).

This articulation shows perhaps a desire to be assimilated into the epistemological project of the

university, and was a clear indication to me to ensure that I make learning visible in class, by spelling

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out the steps that are required in order to reveal the hidden norms that frame teaching and learning

in this institution – this would allow students epistemological access, but it might also involve

noticing where normative frameworks (of the course, or of the student) clash. I invited my PG Dip

(HE) lecturers f the Teaching and learning module, to observe and comment on my teaching, and to

look at whether I was actively engaging students and addressing their learning needs. One or both

attended most of a three week course, and provided the following feedback:

‘Your stance as a teacher is developmental as well as socially critical. You taught in a way

that not only made students aware of how to engage with the subject matter, but also how

what you were teaching related to the field of sociology. We have not often sat in on a class

where developing students’ metacognitive abilities and their awareness of how their

discipline “worked”, was taught so deliberately and expertly’ (peer 2, 2012, Jo Vorster and

Lyn Quinn).

Once again, I invited my own vulnerability and found that this was an affirming and productive space

for learning something new about myself.

Making the norms visible and then working in a vulnerable way to explore how knowledge works,

how it is embodied, does not necessarily sit well with everybody though. Barnett claims that it is

important to introduce ‘awkward spaces to and for students’ Barnett 2005: 795) because this will

prepare them for life and new learning, especially where they will come into contact with all kinds of

‘strangeness’ as they journey in a world of complexity. I do this intentionally and unintentionally in

class, and student feedback helps to make this visible to myself – where students experience my

classes as ‘awkward’, I can then use this awkwardness, or non-convergence (Butler 2000: 37), as a

productive space for their and my learning. I asked students in an extended studies class, where we

were unpacking an aspect of their Sociology 1 module on socialisation, to write an honest reflection

on what had socialised them to be who they are today – arguably an ontological engagement with

epistemology. The task had a two-fold intention: to apply the theory of socialisation to their own

experiences; and for me to get to know them (as humans, apart from their subjection as

learners)better, in order to prepare me for in-depth interviews with them which would help me to

know how to approach my further teaching of them. One student concluded her reflection in this

way:

‘I have revealed enough – too much actually. Please don’t remind me of this note. I am only

telling you this because you and I have something in common. I just wish I could be as brave

as you about it’ (Beauty, 2013).

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This very personal reflection was illuminating for me: it showed that my own modelling of

vulnerability (by perhaps over-sharing my own experiences, noticing and articulating my bias, and

demonstrating ways in which power can be shared in the classroom) can become a tool for students’

self-reflection, but that not all are comfortable with or ready for this experience. In our interview

during the following week, the student concerned was able to experience how I worked with her

vulnerability – by ‘identifying with suffering itself’ – allowing her to keep holding onto her story, but

recognising that we all have stories, and that this knowledge can and should affect the respectful

and empathic way in which we relate to each other. This is not always the case, and sometimes

risking vulnerability in class can be a challenging and frightening prospect. Mann maintains that we

‘need to find ways in which we can redistribute power in the educational process in such a way that

students can exercise power over their own learning and development’, even if this involves a

melancholic relationship to vulnerability, which inhibits what they know. An example helps to

illustrate the variety of student responses to a teaching activity that induced vulnerability: I

facilitated a class debate in the extended studies class, which is a much smaller group of between

23-40 students than the Sociology class which is between 400-500, because it was an opportunity to

reach those dearly held beliefs that sometimes work against transformation, and it was a way to

work with these in the more sheltered environment of a class that I see daily and work with in

different ways to the Sociology 1 class. After the particularly heated debate in which students had

argued with each other about the role of women (triggered by the feminism lectures in Sociology), I

asked students to write a reflection on the class as a way to resolve the volatility of the debate, and

in order to mediate the vulnerability I thought they had experienced during their heated discussions.

I have selected portions of three of these for discussion here:

‘I was outraged, but because I didn’t want to be emotional I chose not to be that involved’

(Luvo, 2011).

Even though I model vulnerability in particular ways in this class, not all students will choose to go

there, and I need to respect that. Following Northedge’s arguments, students can learn just as

meaningfully vicariously (Northedge 2003). The two other reflections though, show that students

risked their own vulnerability in order to learn new things:

‘The discussion was tricky, heated and sticky. It made me understand different aspects of the

discussion and through that, it expanded my way of seeing things’ (Seno, 2011).

‘We have different backgrounds that influence our beliefs at some point we are challenged

by our personal thought and emotions that make it difficult to accept other views. I’ve learnt

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that it is important to listen to what people have to say and try reflect it in our

contemporary lives and in some way or another decide what is best to base your life on.

Learnt a lot thanks’ (Sisi, 2011).

The classroom debate had, perhaps, got out of hand, but by risking that, it provided me with the

opportunity to deal not only with the specific topic, but also with how we learn new things. I could

use these student reflections to guide how we approached the topic the next day, and could also

deal with individuals, who struggled with this, to navigate uncertainty and vulnerability. Inviting

them to write reflections on the class was an important way for them to mediate their own

vulnerability, and for me to work with it in class, in order to transform it.

So in the context of teaching and learning, there might be important aspects of my and my students’

being or knowing that go unrecognised by the formal framework, and are not considered relevant to

teaching or learning. Strathern argues that ‘[M]aking the invisible visible has had two locations [in

her paper] ...On the one hand has been the 'real' productivity of organisations which auditing

overlooks’, arguing that so-called transparency and “visibility” in self-evaluation processes is

sometimes used as a way to mask other important aspects, and ‘[O]n the other hand lies the real-

time nature of social phenomena into which audit's timeless propositions lock in unpredictable and

probably oscillating ways’ (Strathern 2000: 318), suggesting that if I argue that part of social justice

includes making norms visible, this will involve navigating the tension between what is said or

thought, and what is done or experienced. The norms that frame my teaching encounters are a

mixture of various contested ideas, including national, institutional and departmental policies,

protocols and guides; these norms determine the cultural habits and traditions that permit and

animate my performance as teacher; and I interact with these norms with my own ideas and

interpretations of what social justice education is meant to be. The norms influence and are

influenced by overt and national guides, but also include hidden ideas and values that are embedded

in our institutional cultures and in our teaching practices, and are not readily visible to teachers and

learners, and could, arguably, inhibit the goals that our overt intentions and policies recommend and

determine. My own ideas and norms about teaching are based on experiences in other normative

frameworks, such as my own research interests as political philosopher, or as social justice activist

and citizen in the university environment, and arguably self study and reflection is one way to notice

the tensions between my ideas and those that dominate in our classrooms or disciplines.

When self-study works with vulnerability– to one’s peers, to students, to new knowledge, to loss of

dearly held beliefs and stories – it has the potential to continuously inform teaching practice in order

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to expand the norms that frame them. When social justice is the end to which we teach, feedback

from students and peers on a regular basis, as part of our practice, is an important and meaningful

aspect of achieving social justice by making the norms visible, and by expanding the subject

possibilities for teachers and learners. As I have shown, this normative expansion is an ongoing

possibility when the relationship between a teacher, her peers and students, encourages

vulnerability, and as Butler has inspired, ‘[It] is to solicit a becoming, to petition the future always in

relation to the other’ (Butler 2004:44).

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Chapter 8: CONCLUSION

This portfolio is precisely ‘to petition a future, always in relation to the other’, by looking back, by

locating myself in an ideological framework that was there before I started teaching, and that keeps

expanding as I go; and by looking to the other, to you, the reader, and to the vast array of other

writers through time who have had things to say about teaching and learning. It is my way ‘to ask for

recognition’ which, as Butler asserts, ‘is precisely not to ask for recognition for what one already is’

(Butler 2004: 44), but to imagine, ‘petition’, an evolving future of possibilities. While the portfolio is

my attempt to locate my practice in a theoretical framework in order to articulate a coherence, I

acknowledge that I continue to learn from and be challenged by my relationships with my students

and with the ongoing engagement with literature.

I argue that the norms that define what teaching is allowed to be, and that project what good

teaching ought to be, are constantly remade as people engage with them. They are not fixed, but

permeable to the influence of those who engage with them. As I submit myself to being recognised

as a teacher-subject, my other subjectivities, including that of student-subject, crowd the space,

leading to the instability of fixed norms, which struggle to contain who I should be or can be in this

context. Similarly, the norms around what a “good” student is, are contextual and changeable, and

part of my project as a “good” teacher, is to recognise what it is that students bring to the

classroom, by providing the space where they feel welcomed and respected through our daily

activities. As I have discussed in this portfolio, these norms of the classroom are negotiated, can

shift, as part of my teaching strategies which aim to make the norms visible, but also to disrupt the

norms in order to bring about transformation. Transformation, as my teaching intention, is possible

when there are those who are marginalised by the norms, but who refuse to be limited by them, and

so the disruption which then occurs allows the transformation of the students concerned, the

teachers who teach for social justice, and the norms that frame the encounter. As Blackie et al

argue, ‘[T]he relationship between students and teacher is then a deeply human one which may

prove transformative, ideally, for both student and teacher’ (Blackie et al 2010: 638)

So teaching practices, knowledge content and how I deal with it and organise it, assessment

activities, and soliciting feedback from peers and students is part of the same cycle of teaching for

transformation. Self- study of teaching practice, such as this portfolio is, is a way to identify,

challenge and reform the norms of my practice, by recognising them, and by recognising the ways in

which I not only comply with the norms, but also why and when I resist them or subvert them. My

approach to curriculum is in praxis: making the hidden curriculum and the invisible norms visible

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though teaching practices and methods; using assessment practices to evaluate whether in fact they

have been made visible, and discovering the unique translations that my students have of these.

As I have mentioned, the norms around ‘transformation” and “social justice” have assumed a

fixedness because of the measures we have developed in higher education to measure whether they

are occurring. But in this portfolio, I have argued that actual transformation is far more slippery and

elusive than the formal measures that define them. In my teaching, transformation happens through

all kinds of classroom encounters, and is the transformation of ES students who have been identified

as “at risk” into life-long learners, and scholars who can contribute to knowledge; and of teachers,

such as myself, who feel marginal to the centre, into legitimate colleagues in the community of

teachers; and knowledge, which is never fixed, but which is embodied by those who claim it, learn it,

and who are changed by it and thus change it.

Because I am a unique individual who brings my own experiences into how I think and act as a

teacher, and because my students all have their own stories, fears and aspirations which are unique

to themselves, we approach and embrace knowledge uniquely, and this knowledge changes who we

are. This relationship between epistemology and ontology is inseparable, and I am thus compelled to

provide the kinds of spaces where students can bring other subjectivities, other versions of

themselves, into the space where we work with knowledge, in order that knowledge becomes more

than facts and content, but new understandings of how to be in the world; and new explanations

and predictions of how to be in the future.

Learning to work with vulnerability – by making myself vulnerable to peers and students through

inviting feedback; through modelling vulnerability in class in the manner in which I tell stories of

myself, notice my bias; by allowing myself to shift how I think about things when students tell me

their stories and desires – is, I have argued, an important aspect of teaching to transform. A

willingness to let go of the past, in order to let new information and new knowledge change who we

are, is significant to learning, and so I especially encourage students to acknowledge and own their

own vulnerability so that vulnerability itself can be transformed into that new beginning that brings

about tangible shifts in how we see the world. Necessarily, the foundations on which I build myself,

must be shaken if I wish to transform into something else. Foundations of learning that are built over

the twelve years of schooling, and the primary and secondary socialisation that happens in our

families and communities, must be shaken, if we are to progress into higher learning. Case and

Marshall argue ‘[T]hat these aims are ‘higher’ does not necessarily imply that they are elite. On the

contrary, it can be argued that such forms of thought (critical thinking and questioning, etc.) are

84

consistent with emancipatory, critical theory perspectives on higher education, which would view

such aims as not merely valued by ‘academic teachers’ but crucial for maintaining an open and

democratic society’ (Case and Marshall 2005:262). Teaching as I do at what is considered to be an

“elite” institution, and teaching in the ESU where students are often from poor backgrounds or are

the first in their families to go to university, I am very aware of the contradictions and complexities

of students, who must navigate unfamiliar surroundings and prove themselves proficient in order to

achieve their degrees. The forms of thought which Case and Marshall refer to, although named as

‘higher education’, are, I argue, coherent with my aims of social justice education when students are

given the opportunity to make them their own, apply them to real situations, use them to see the

world around them differently – and I, too, am changed by working with knowledge in this way,

because the unexpected privilege of hearing how students grapple to apply the knowledge they

learn of in Politics 1 or Sociology 1, enlarges my understanding of this knowledge.

And so my journey as a teacher constantly disrupts and troubles what it is I already know, challenges

me to keep learning and keep growing, and, I believe, this demonstrates to the students I teach how

transformation is possible, and how it can make us all into better humans. This portfolio, even in the

telling of who I am, has already helped me to notice where there are gaps in my scholarship, where I

need to seek more, and so while this conclusion draws these reflections to an end, it also denotes a

new beginning, for who else I can be as I continue as a teacher.

85

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Other data sources:

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reflection on ‘Some of the contextual factors that impact on my teaching and my students' learning Friday, 9 March 2012

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Reflections on classroom observation in Extended Studies classes by Precious Tanyaniwa

Student feedback reports.

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APPENDIX 1: Teaching and university citizenship activities

1. Courses taught at Rhodes University 2013:

ESU: ES Sociology (2 x 45 minute lectures, twice a week, every term) ES Politics (2 x 45 minute lectures, twice a week, every term) Academic literacy (2 x 45 minute lectures, once a week, every term)

Sociology 1: module on feminism (2012: 12 lectures; 2013: 5 lectures; all in 3rd term as part of the course on Social Change)

Drama 3: Judith Butler and performativity (2012, 2013: 2 lectures, 3rd term)

2. Post graduate supervision:

MA student in Politics (co-supervised with Dr Sally Matthews, due to complete 2014)

MA student in Education (co-supervised with Dr Mandy Hlengwa, due to complete 2015)

3. Rhodes University Committees:

Humanities Faculty Board

Teaching and Learning Committee (faculty representative)

Gender Action Forum (was chair: 2011, 2012; currently an ordinary member)

Women’s Academic Solidarity Association (chair: 2007-2009, and 2011; currently Reporting Officer; formal and informal mentor)

Equity and Institutional Culture Committee (GENACT representative)

Naming Committee (vice-chancellor nominee – resigned in September 2013)

Recruitment and Selection Committees (NTEU rep, 3 of these in 2013)

Writing Intensive Programme: peer group (2013)

Working group and selection committee: UHURU Humanities programme

4. Presentations – 2013:

Academic Orientation Programme: Panel member: Transforming Institutional Culture (28 January 2013) Student Perspectives (29 January 2013)

Community Engagement week panel: activism and community engagement (8 May 2013)

WASA roundtable: Beyond Gender. Session chair (9 August 2013)

WASA workshop: Women and Water (Chair) (4 September 2013)

Gender Imbizo : Panel: Gender and the curriculum (31 October 2013)

Assessors Course: Student identities (5 November 2013)

HELTASA paper: Violence and vulnerability: some theoretical responses to “inclusion”. 28 November 2013)

5. Papers

Knowles, C. (2013- published) Assessment as Transformation. Published in: Beyond the Apartheid University: critical voices on transformations in the university sector. Editor: Gideon de Wet. Alice: University of Fort Hare Press

Knowles, C. (2013 - published) Beyond Silence: how and when to tell stories of rape. Bokamoso

Leadership Forum http://bokamosoafrica.org/2013/08/beyond-silence-when-and-how-to-tell-stories-of-rape.html

Knowles, C. (2013 – submitted ) Vulnerability: Self-study’s contribution to social justice education. For Special Edition of Perspectives in Higher Education 2014

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6. Listserv membership and engagement:

WASA listserv (co-administrator); WASA facebook page (co-administrator)

Linked In international groups (sporadic active membership, especially during student holidays): Scholarship of teaching and learning; Teaching and Learning; Women supporting women; Feminist scholarship

7. Reading group and mentoring:

WASA: Butler Reading Group (1st semester 2013)

Applied Butler reading and mentoring group (fortnightly 2013)

Formal WASA mentor relationships (2007-)current, one per year

Informal mentoring relationships with ex-students, colleagues and WASA members

8. Community Engagement Activities 2013:

Executive board member: UPSTART

Executive board member: ARKWORK

Saturday morning tutoring Gr 10-12, Reading/writing/thinking: UPSTART at Kutliso Daniels High School

Individual mentoring of various members of the Grahamstown community.

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Appendix 2: Peer feedbacks

Peer Evaluation Report: Corinne Knowles

Humanities Extended Studies Programme

On invitation by you, Lynn Quinn and I attended a number of lectures in a course on Feminism for Sociology 1 students during the third term of 2012. You wanted us to focus, in particular, on your interaction with the class and on whether and how you were able to involve the students actively. This was important to you given that this is a mode of teaching you privilege and which is relatively easy to achieve in the small class context in which you normally work as a lecturer on the Humanities Extended Studies Programme.

We must say at the outset that we enjoyed the lecturers very much and found your teaching style interesting. Your stance as a teacher is developmental as well as socially critical. You taught in a way that not only made students aware of how to engage with the subject matter, but also how what you were teaching related to the field of sociology. We have not often sat in on a class where developing students’ metacognitive abilities and their awareness of how their discipline “worked”, was taught so deliberately and expertly.

You did a number of important things to promote your students’ learning: you discussed with them your understanding of teaching and learning and why you were doing the kinds of things you did. You showed them the RUconnected site you developed and alerted them to changes on the site. In addition you pointed out readings on the site and alerted them to the most important or accessible of the readings for particular lectures. Difficult words were written on the board and you also pointed out words that had everyday as well as disciplinary meanings. Students were also given suggestions on how to respond to the tutorial questions for this course. Again, these are all strategies that contribute to students’ understanding of the learning process and the links between lectures and self-study.

The session on reading a sociological text on feminism was especially instructive. This kind of teaching is being advocated by texts on teaching and learning in the disciplines and we are certain that students would have found this lecture interesting and instructive. As a teacher, you were engaging and passionate about your subject matter. It was furthermore evident that you are passionate about the act of teaching and about students.

Feminism is not an easy topic to teach to first year students since it is quite easy to alienate young minds who have not yet learned the art of critique when they are introduced to fairly radical ideas as are part of the course you taught. By examining with your students the history of feminism as a movement and as a field of study, you enabled them to understand the relationship between society, social practices and the discipline of sociology. You demonstrated the “doing of feminism” by discussing with the class how socio-political issues of the day related to feminism and what kind of engagement in social issues was required for anyone interested in being a feminist / doing feminism. The course provided students with tools to engage in feminist inquiry.

You certainly did engage the students actively in the lectures. You asked questions that got them to think critically about their stance towards certain groups and most importantly, you provided them with the space to respond to your questions. We found it interesting that a wide range of students asked questions and responded to yours; this is a clear indication that you managed to put students at ease and that you created a classroom context where students respected each others’ points of view. You also demonstrated an interest in their opinions by asking them to give free-writing responses to questions and providing some feedback the next day on their writing.

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If you wish more students to engage actively, then it may be useful to try some of the well-known active learning techniques like asking them to discuss their responses to questions in pairs or small groups and then giving feedback on the pair / small group discussion; or writing their responses down before committing to speak in front of everyone. We would also suggest that you repeat student questions because it is sometimes difficult for other students to hear their classmates.

Your teaching style demonstrates to students that what they learn at university has relevance to their lives and can / should influence how they choose to respond to issues in the world.

Thank you for inviting us to conduct this peer review on your teaching. It was a privilege to observe your passion for your field and your dedication to your students.

Jo-Anne Vorster and Lynn Quinn

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Review of Corinne Knowles’ course on Feminism in the Social and cultural change course

I am glad for the opportunity to write this review for Corinne’s teaching because I’ve relied quite heavily on her input in how I’ve taught my Politics 1 course for the past two years. I was also glad to attend Corinne’s classes because I’ve found that the one or two lectures that I’m able to dedicate to feminist theory of International Relations to be one of the most daunting as students appear more resistant towards feminist theory than other theories I introduce them to. I attended most but not all of Corinne’s classes so I am unable to provide a ‘complete’ review of the course.

I enjoyed being a spectator in this particular classroom as the teacher seemed to have wrestled with the packaging of the course which delightfully adopted bell hooks claim that “feminism is for everybody”. I was inspired by Corinne’s ability to gently introduce the students to the history of feminist movement and theory while also locating feminist theory within debates on social and cultural change. I liked how she involved the students in the learning by distributing small papers where each of them would share their perceptions of feminist theory to her in the beginning of the course and how she did the same exercise at the end of the course to ‘test’ how these perceptions had shifted. This is not an easy method to use in such a big class as Sociology it is also demanding on the time of the lecturer. Her use of it is demonstrative of her genuine attempt to grasp where students are in order to find a middle ground to facilitate learning moving from their ontological location/s. It is a tool I would like to use as I have not been able to attend my first year tutorial to gauge how students are doing beyond the classroom; this is certainly one way I could engage further with students.

I have also found that it is not merely what we teach but whether we teach our disciplines in interesting ways. One way of doing this is seeing the difference between teachers who think quite carefully about the type of examples they use. I am often simply enraged at the thoughtlessness of some of my academic colleagues in the classroom especially in terms of being aware that the examples we use in class determine our own racial, sexual and class orientations. In this university those examples often reflect a white, male, middle class, heterosexual view of the world. It was a positive experience to see that Corinne thought deeply about the examples used in class, which were provocative moving from examining the politics of the masculinities that shaped the Marikana massacre, to the slutwalk national debate of 2011 which shaped much of our student debate here at Rhodes, to even examining the lack of women professors at Rhodes which really helped students to recognise the workings of gender at our university today. This level of engagement with students requires a high level of vulnerability on the lecturer which is why I suspect most academics choose the easier less involved examples, but Corinne’s ability to locate herself honestly as a feminist at Rhodes was both a provocative and a vulnerable move I would argue. It was provocative in the sense that often especially at the undergraduate level there is pressure for lectures not to put pressure on students to choose a particular worldview meaning that our job then is simply to give our students the ‘menu’ of knowledge making as shaped by different theories without making suggestions on which ‘item’ in the menu we would actually prefer for ourselves. It was thus provocative for Corinne to choose to challenge this order of business and locate herself as a feminist theorist and activist. It was also a vulnerable move because it allowed students to challenge her on how she makes the transition from the theoretical to the empirical. For me it is exactly this provocativeness and vulnerability that made this course most enjoyable for the students. Right in front of them was a woman ‘doing’ the work of feminism while at once making sense of the discourses that shapes feminism today!

Perhaps the only suggestion I would make for the future is for Corinne to consider dividing the different section stricter between the global, continental and national debates on feminist theory. I am very sympathetic to her attempt to avoid this, but perhaps instead of each week’s readings containing on South Africa, the continent and elsewhere, it would be easier for the students to have

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week one on the history of feminism, African feminism and South African feminism. I think that at a postgraduate level it the current format is more exciting in terms of constantly moving from the local, continental to the global. However at a first year level it might be easier for the students to use the more ‘traditional’ chronology of the global, continental and local instead of dealing with them interchangeably.

Overall, I think that Corinne should be quite happy with the quality of this course and more so her delivery of it. I could only wish that she had six weeks for this course, three weeks makes it very difficult for students to immerse themselves into the big debates, but luckily she is the person to take on this ambitious journey of using teaching as a lesson on the pursuit of justice.

Siphokazi Magadla.

Lecturer Department of Political and International Studies,

Rhodes University, Grahamstown

Tell- +27-(046)-603-8664

Fax: +27 (046)-622-4345

Email: S.Magadla@ru.ac.za/ siphokazi.magadla@gmail.com

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Reflections on classroom observation in Extended Studies classes

Introduction

This report details my reflections on teaching and learning in Extended Studies classes. In 2012, I had the opportunity to sit in on the Sociology/ Politics extended studies classes as part of my data collection for my PhD research ‘A sociological analysis of the provision of extended studies as a means of addressing transformation at a historically white university.’ Class room observation took place at least once every week from February to October 2012. Specifically, the report details Corinne’s interaction with the students, her teaching approach, the ways in which she managed the diversity of the class and the extent to which she prepared students to deal with mainstream work.

Building rapport with students and managing diversity

The lecturer created a conducive learning environment in which all students appeared to feel at ease due to her warm, friendly personality and also because she was approachable. Her interaction with students went beyond your typical lecturer student relationship in that she created a sense of community amongst her students by encouraging them to work in groups and also encouraging them to interact beyond the classroom. She showed genuine concern for the students by not only caring about their academics but also their social and emotional wellbeing. She opened a space where students could open up about their fears, concerns and even personal problems. In my opinion, Corinne was more than a lecturer to these students; she played multiple roles from being a lecturer, councillor and even a mother to some. I really think these roles were managed carefully and effectively as the need arose.

Although the ES class is generally believed to draw students from mostly underprivileged or poor educational backgrounds, there were a few students from private schools. The small size of the class and constant interaction with the students made me aware of the differences in students in terms of culture, class, educational background and the different forms of cultural and social capital. Corinne’s approach to teaching and her relationship with the students reflected an awareness of this diversity. Some students were better prepared than others, some more familiar with the university ways of learning than others and still Corinne managed to cater for this diverse group of students who differed in their level of preparedness for higher education.

One example is the way she taught academic writing skills or other general skills that are not taught on mainstream for the simple reason that it’s assumed that students are aware of them or can put them into practice by virtue of being in university. Although I could tell that some students (particularly those from private schools) didn’t enjoy these classes, Corinne always explained to students that she was aware that some students didn’t need to be taught some of the basic skills. Apart from explaining why she taught or revisited the basic skills taught in high school, she also made the process interesting by allowing students to learn from each other. So instead of just giving students notes, she opened the questions to the floor and those who were familiar with the material engaged in the conversation. As time went on, I noticed that students didn’t get irritated anymore as they felt like they were contributing something to the discussions. My interviews with them also confirmed that they were irritated at first but they eventually accepted that some students needed more help and in actual fact they also liked the fact that their fellow classmates could learn something from them.

Teaching difficult concepts

I believe that Corinne’s experience with ES students helped her to foresee the challenges that the students were likely to face with regard to understanding and applying concepts taught in mainstream classes. In order to help students understand difficult concepts, she used many familiar

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examples that students could relate to. The use of familiar examples helped the students to better understand the concepts and made it possible for them to think critically about the concepts as they tried to apply them to reality. These critical and deep discussions about the concepts usually went on for longer periods than would be the case in mainstream classes. The lecturer appeared extremely patient as she listened to the discussions and this in a way created an atmosphere in which even the quiet and shy students felt comfortable enough to engage and contribute to the discussions. Apart from using examples and engaging in long discussions, Corinne fostered enthusiasm for the courses by incorporating interesting learning methods into her teaching and this made the students enthusiastic about the course. The use of you tube videos to explain difficult concepts made learning so much fun even for me as an observer.

Access to ideas and concepts taught in mainstream.

Overall, I feel that Corinne helped students to cope with mainstream by first of all boosting their confidence and helping them see that they were not any different from mainstream students. Secondly, where mainstream normally focuses on disciplinary knowledge, I felt that she taught students ways of learning and writing within a discipline and this kind of knowledge is rarely taught in mainstream classes. Having been an undergraduate student myself, I think these students were at an advantage compared to mainstream students because the support they received is equally important for first year mainstream students coming into higher education from high school.

Conclusion

So far, I have highlighted only positive aspects of teaching and learning on ES. I will conclude by briefly discussing one main concern that emerged from my observation of teaching and learning in Corinne’s ES classes. At the beginning of the year, I was worried about how students would handle the transition to mainstream/ 2nd year given the amount of support given on extended studies. It was obvious that students received extra support compared to students on mainstream. As the year progressed, I noticed that Corinne became a bit strict and began to gradually withdraw her support which I believe forced the students to take initiative and do research instead relying on Corinne. Although this is good, I think this could be done earlier in the year to allow students to adjust to minimum academic support.

Precious Tanyanyiwa

PhD candidate: Sociology

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APPENDIX 3: Examples of student feedback (click on the file to access all the pages)

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APPENDIX 4: Examples of assessed students’ work – two separate PDF files (click on each page to access all the pages).

Babalwa Manyati

Politics Essay 2

The personal is the International

Siphokazi Magadla

Topic: Why is the myth that wars are fought to protect women and children problematic

from a feminist perspective, and what contribution does feminism make to our thinking

about security?

I will begin by explaining the terms feminism and feminist perspective. Feminism is an

academic discipline that dates back to the 1960s and 1970s; it is dedicated to achieving

political, social and economic equality for women. (Tickner, 2008: 264). Feminist

perspectives date back to the end of the 1980’s (about the same time as the cold war). This

is said to have not been a coincidence, because after the cold war, a lot of attention was

given to issues such as the economy, ethno-national conflicts and the high number of

civilians killed and not too much attention was focused on the problems women face during

a war. There a 5 different feminist theories, they include liberal, Marxist, socialist, post-

colonial and post-modern theories. Liberal feminists believe that ‘removing legal obstacles

can overcome women’s subordination’. (Tickner, 2008:264). Marxist and socialist feminists

look for explanations of why women are subordinated in the labour market, looks at issues

of why men are most likely to get greater rewards and prestige than women for paid work in

the public sphere then for unpaid work in the household. (Tickner, 2008:264). Post-colonial

and post-modern feminists argue that ‘we cannot generalize about all women’. (Tickner,

2008:264). They argue that women are at different levels in different societies. (Tickner,

2008:265). In my next paragraph I will begin explaining what the feminist definition of

security is and I will also explain the myth of protection and how it is problematic from a

feminist perspective.

Commented [c1]: how is this relevant to the topic, Babalwa – you have described feminism, but your essay is NOT about feminism. It is about the myth that wars are fought to protect women, and also what feminism has to say about security. So unless you link all of the ideas in this paragraph to the topic, it is not relevant.

Feminist define security to be broad, in a way that it is seen as something that diminishes a

lot of forms of violence, including physical, economic and ecological; and that security

should be thought of bottom-up instead of top-down, meaning that we should start with

the security of individual rather than the international system. (Tickner, 2008:270). The fact

that we should start with individual security enables us to ‘examine critically the role of

states as adequate security providers’, (Tickner, 2008:270). We do that because ‘the more

the government is preoccupied with national security, the less its citizens, especially

women, experience physical security’. (Tickner, 2008:270). Security can also be defined in

political/military terms, that it is, “the protection of the boundaries and integrity of the state

and its values against the dangers of a hostile international environment”, (Tickner,

1997:624). The protection myth is the myth that wars are fought to protect women and

children, but in the meantime when there are wars women and children are particularly

vulnerable to being raped, killed or both, “In wartime, women are particularly subject to

rape and prostitution”. (Tickner, 2008:268). Women are also shown to be targets during

wars, research shows that the reason for women being victimised and the impact that the

conflict violence has on the livlihoods, health and dignity is abundant”. (Hendricks, 2011:13)

War also has a stereotype associated with the protection myth, the stereotype that, the

military can only be entered by men so that they can protect the women and children. So

another feminist is another critique of some International Relations theories about the

security dilemma because it is that it is masculine, for example, it is said that “it is not like a

soldier to be womanly”, (Tickner, 2008:269). That image of a soldier is related to the

protection myth. This idea that the young man is to become a soldier to protect the

vulnerable women and children during a war is “an important motivator for the recruitment

of military forces; it has also helped sustain war for both women and men”. (Tickner,

2008:269). That is why it can also be said that the “logic of war rests largely on the

assumption that wars are fought in order to protect women”.

Commented [c2]: what are you saying here? That feminism diminishes violence? How?

Commented [c3]: this is a good and important point, but you are mostly using quotes to make it. Use your own words too to expand on what the quotes say. Quotes must ADD to your point, they must not BE the whole point. Does this make sense? So, for instance, you could say: Individual security often is the responsibility of women – whose task it is to feed and nurture her family, during times of war as well as during peace. Individual security is put at risk during war. For this reason, feminists suggest that we need to broaden how we think about security so that we take individual security into account – and if the state is only concerned with national security, it will end up causing its citizens, especially women, to be made even more vulnerable than they already are.

Commented [c4]: this is a repeat of what you have just said, so leave it out, but keep the reference.

Commented [c5]: is this a quote? where does it start?

In conclusion, I have spoken about the critiques of the of the International Relations debates

about the security dilemma, I have explained the feminist critiques of militarism (the fact

that it’s a man’s world and that the man are there to protect the women, whereas women

and children are more vulnerable during wars). Lastly, I have also showed what feminists

mean when they argue that unequal gender relations are important for sustaining military

activities of the state.

References:

Tickner, J. A. (2008). “Gender in world politics” in The Globalisation of World Politics:

An Introduction to International Relations. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Tickner, J.A. (1997). You just don’t understand: Troubled engagements between

feminists and IR theorists. International Studies Quarterly, 41(4), 611-632

Hendricks, C. (2011). Gender and security in Africa: An overview. Uppsala: The

Nordic Africa Institute.

Yho Babalwa, you have a lot of work to do. You MUST read two more readings,

because this essay is very thin.

You use a lot of quotes. The essay must be YOUR DISCUSSION of what other people

say. So yes, use quotes, but never use them instead of making a point. YOU must make the

point, and then use the quote to back up your point. You could double this essay by going

over it again, and for every quote, add a sentence that explains what the quote means and

why it is important to the topic.

You need to think some more about the protection myth. Tickner gives examples of

how rape is used in war, how women and children form the bulk of war casualties, how

women have to flee their homes to become refugees during war. All of these mean that it is

a myth that war is fought to protect women – because women are made more vulnerable.

Then you need to think some more about what feminism says about security – not

only that we should think more broadly about security of WHAT (in other words, security is

Formatted: Normal, No bullets or numbering

not only state security, but also individual security, and what thios means and how you

achieve it); but also what feminists say about women being involved in peace-keeping and

peace-building activities.

It is clear to me that you have left this very late, and must now focus, concentrate,

and DO THE WORK. There is no short cut. Go through the readings again,. highlight a) what

they say about the protection myth and b) what they say about security.

Work hard and good luck! Formatted: Font: 12 pt

“Democracy is one of the most contested and controversial concepts I in political theory, and despite

the global spread of democracy it remains an ambiguous concept, open to diverse interpretations, uses

and abuses” (Abrahamsen, 2000: 120). This contestation ofin defining democracy is because different

definitions of democracy embody different social and political qualities and for that matter a neutral

definition of the term is impossible to reach (Abrahamsen, 2000: 120). An attempt to make ease the

definition of the term was made famous by Schumpeter in 1942 and later by Huntington, and this is to

define democracy by the procedure by which the government is in power got in there (Huntington,

1990: 93). This means that free and fair elections, which are periodically held, were there is ample

competition to attain power and rule a country through votes of all the adult population is the most

fundamental aspect of a democracy, and for civil and political rights to be protected (Huntington, 1990:

94). Huntington states that, without the ‘fuzzy norms’ that people expect democracy to accompany, the

procedural definition of democracy would yield better analysis to determine whether a country is

democratic or not (Huntington, 1990: 93). But this differs from Abrahamsen’s definition of democracy.,

this This essay is going to be using Abrahamsen’s definition of democracy, as I believe that every

individual in society should benefit in a democratic country, because the origins of the word Demos= the

people, Kratos=rule, which means that the people have the power to elect a new leader if one is not

meeting their needs, and that people should benefit from electing a party to power (Matthews, 2011).

Abrahamsen does acknowledge the importance of the electoral process in order to define democracy,

but she also believes that “electoral democracy, while valuable, contains substantial limitations in terms

of its ability to address issues of social justice in highly unequal societies” (Abrahamsen, 2000: 121).

Democracy, according to Abrahamsen, should benefit the masses and address not only political rights,

but also socio-economic rights (Abrahamsen, 2000: 121) and change the current status quo, which is

massive inequality. The Social Contract theory made famous by Hobbes and Rousseau explains the

relationship between the government and the governed, and that people would only agree to the social

contract in order to have their liberty rights protected and benefit something from the state, which is

economic power (Hobbes, 1996: 216-217).

Elections should be free and fair in a sense that every individual eligible to vote ought to participate in

the electoral process in order for the masses to make a rational decision on which party is fit to rule a

country and that will bring about political and socio-economic rights (Abrahamsen, 2000: 120-123). She

is opposed to voter apathy because voting studies and political attitudes were conducted in Western

societies and indicated that a majority of people were not thoroughly informed and others did not really

pay attention or cared about politics (Abrahamsen, 2000: 123). This to Abrahamsen is a problem, as

opposed to Huntington, and this leads to “people consumed by self-interest and their satisfaction of

their daily wants” rather than the good of the community (Abrahamsen, 2000: 127).

In a democratic country, there should be multiple parties competing to attain power and get into office.

Both Huntington and Abrahamsen believe in this, but Abrahamsen points out that people who are not

economically empowered will not have an opportunity to start up, register and run their parties for

elections because without this “democracy is likely to become the vehicle for the maintenance of elite

dominance” and the ruling party is likely to be hegemonic (Abrahamsen, 2000: 130-131). In order to

have a successful party, the president (chosen by the party) should be educated and have economic

Commented [c1]: perhaps “An attempt to simplify…”?

Commented [c2]: where did you read this? on Sally’s slides? then give a slide number as well.

Commented [c3]: lovely! (By the way Hobbes was long dead in 1996, so check on this date)

Commented [c4]: or rather, she sees voter apathy as problematic – she is not opposed to it, she just views it differently from Huntington -

Commented [c5]: this doesn’t happen in every democracy – in US and India, the people choose the president

security. Then if democracy does not address social-economic problems of the masses, how is it that a

person may be able to start a successful party to run for elections? It is not possible. After the election

process, democracy should be realised in a sense that people are actually equal before the law, be

economically empowered and have their democratic democracy realized and not just endorsed on by

the constitution whereas there won’t bewithout change in people’s lives (Abrahamsen, 2000: 130). This

essay will look at two countries, Brazil and South Africa and compare to sesee if they have implemented

Abrahamsen’s definition of democracy and what it embodies.

Commented [c6]: who makes this claim? does the president ALWAYS have to be educated and have economic security? Thomas Sankara, president of Burkina Faso, for instance, went to the poorest school, and was poor, and had no post-matric education apart from military training, and yet he was one of the iconic people’s presidents ever – check out http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Sankara

Commented [c7]: Not sure what you are saying here – what is the link between socio-economic problems and starting a party? state your point more clearly.

In the 21st century, a large number of countries live under democratic principles. Within those

countries, each and everyone have their own idea of what living in a democratic country means.

The men and women leaders that are elected to be in power-ensuring that people indeed live in a

democracy- have their own perception about what is democracy? The same can be said for the

working class, unemployed and disadvantaged classes. Theorists such as Samuel Huntington and

Rita Abrahamsen have shared their ideas as to what they think a democracy is. This essay is

going to compare the state of democracy in South Africa and Brazil.

Before any attention can be paid to the comparison of the state of democracy in South Africa and

Brazil, it is important to identify firstly, what is democracy? Samuel Huntington states that “as a

form of government, democracy has been defined in terms of sources of authority for

government, purposes served by government, and procedures for constituting government”

(Huntington, 1990: 94). However he continues to say that there are ambiguities when democracy

is defined using either the source of authority or purpose, thus he suggests a procedural definition

of what the concept of democracy means. Huntington states that in other governmental systems

(such as Brazil) people become leaders due to their wealth, history, birth, examination and

occupation, to name a few. He states that “the central procedure of democracy is the selection of

leaders through competitive elections by people they govern” (Huntington, 19990: 94).

In his book “The Third Wave”, Samuel Huntington refers largely to Joseph Schumpeter, who in

his study Capitalism, Socialism, and Democracy is said to give the most important modern

formulation of the concept of democracy. In his study, Schumpeter looked at the deficiencies of

what he termed the “classical theory of democracy”, where he defined democracy in terms of

“will of the people” (the source) and “the common good” (purpose). Schumpeter continued to

improve/ advance on what he had titled “democratic method” in which he said “is the

institutional arrangement for arriving at political decisions in which individuals acquire power to

decide by means of competitive struggle for the people’s vote” (Huntington, 1990: 95).

On the other hand, Rita Abrahamsen has a different perspective on what a democracy is? .

Abrahamsen states that democracy cannot be easily described using only one meaning. She states

that democracy is a concept that is ambiguous and open to many interpretations; she continues to

say that it ‘inevitably causes endless disputes about their proper use and their users’

(Abrahamsen, 2000: 121). Abrahamsen highlights that according to the democratic theory,

Commented [c1]: But Huntington and Schumpeter, even though they discuss these methods and mention them, favour the “procedure” method of looking at democracy. You must make this clear, because this is key to their approach. You must explain what a procedural approach to democracy means.

“democracy can work well with only low levels of voter participation…it was argued that apathy

could be an indication of a high degree of trust in political leaders” (Abrahamsen, 2000: 124).

She continues to say that should there be too much participation, ‘there will be high voter turn-

out which could be a sign of declining consensus and there may be an increase in social tension

and extremism’ (Abrahamsen, 2000: 125). Rita Abrahamsen also mentions the fact the when

describing/ defining democracy, “present authors are concerned with defining democracy in

realistic and operational terms- normative definitions including the socio-economic criteria and

active involvement by subordinate classes are deemed unworkable because they do not exist, as

Karl Marx states “scholars who adopt normative definitions would be “hard-pressed” to find

‘actual’ democratic regimes to study” (Abrahamsen, 2000: 127). With

With these two definitions of democracy I am in favour of Samuel Huntington’s definition of

procedural democracy. This is because when looking at the electoral system, it can be said to be

fair in allowing ordinary citizens to have a say in who governs them. Procedural democracy

promotes succession of political freedoms and ensures free and fair voting. Some of the

shortcomings for procedural democracy are that there is a narrowed definition of democracy, as

well as the argument that most of the citizens who do vote are not informed about the process of

voting, thus they are “uneducated” about who it is they are voting for.

We then shift our attention from what is a democracy to the comparison of democracy between

South Africa and Brazil. Brazil’s electoral system can be said to be similar to that of South

Africa with regards to how the president in particular, is elected. The president of Brazil is

elected to be in office for a period of four years by an absolute majority through a two round

system (a voting system used to elect a single winner). Brazil functions under a multiparty

system where one party does not have the ability to gain power alone, thus all the parties work

with each other to form coalition governments (Election-Guide 2010).

The Brazilian electoral system to some extent can be compared to that of South Africa. South

Africa has a multi-party democracy where the African National Congress (ANC) is in power with a

significant majority since the first elections in 1994 (Rivera 2010: page). Just like in Brazil, the South

African president is elected to be in office for a period of four years by an absolute majority

through a two round system.

Commented [c2]: why is this quote here? which part of it is helping you to make a point? Don’t merely insert a quote – you must make it meaningful by talking to it, adding to it or explaining it. This quote is also too long – so rather put SOME of it in your own words, and directly quote only bits of it.

Commented [c3]: which you have not yet explained.

Commented [c4]: no. Using a procedural definition of democracy allows one to VIEW democracy from a particular standpoint, and make comparisons. Procedural democracy does not PROMOTE anything.

Commented [c5]: so, in other words, the shortcomings are that it provides only a narrow view of democracy, but it leaves a whole lot of issues around democracy unexamined.

Commented [c6]: explain what this means. Don’t assume that the reader knows what you mean.

Commented [c7]: explain.

Arthur Ituassu states that “the election of mayors and municipal representatives signaled the

emerging shape of national politics and propelled local candidates to the national stage”…he

continues to say that, “from the election of Fernando Henrique Cardoso in 1995, Brazil's path

toward development has been driven by politics as much as by any economic platform”(Ituassu

2008). This cannot be said to be true for South Africa, since the election of the ANC, the first

black president and the transformation to democracy the path towards development has been

driven mainly, if not only, by politics. There is over- emphasis on re-addressing the imbalances

of apartheid South Africa and little discussion about how to improve the economic and social

position of South Africa. In the second transition document by the African National Congress, it

is stated that “the persistence of widespread poverty and extreme inequality in a middle-income

country poses a major threat to social cohesion and nation building” (ANC discussion document

2012: page).

José Murilo de Carvalho makes a comparison between the democracy of Brazil and Nigeria, he

states that in Brazil they have “experienced long periods of military dictatorship and they still

face severe problems of poverty, inequality, political and civil violence, extensive corruption and

impunity however the major obstacle in the way of consolidating a democratic system is the

appalling level of social inequality that can be found in the country” (de Carvalho, 2000: 5).

When we look at the challenges Brazil continues to face, it can be said that South Africa faces

similar challenges under its democracy, particularly with the level of social inequality found in

South Africa. “According to data from the World Bank, in 2009 South Africa had a GDP of about $285

billion. This is among the highest GDPs in the world — out of the 185 countries for which data is

provided, South Africa ranks 31st, between Argentina and Thailand…And South Africa? With a Gini

coefficient of 65.0, it is 135th in the list of 136 countries” (suddenwalk 2011).this data therefore illustrates

that the levels of inequality in South Africa are high, if the statistics were at a high rate in 2009, it is most

certain that the numbers have increased.

He continues to say that the inequalities have remained constant for the last 20 years, 15 of

which were under civilian and democratic government (de Carvalho, 2000: 5). This is can also

be compared to South Africa as to say that since South Africa was declared a democratic country

Commented [c8]: what does this mean? don’t insert a quote unless it is helping you to make a specific point. So explain what this means, in order then to apply it to Brazil and SA.

Commented [c9]: what does this mean?

Commented [c10]: explain.

Commented [c11]: WHO says it is OVER emphasis? many would argue that this is entirely necessary.

Commented [c12]: little discussion? again, you are making a claim here but not backing it up. If you read this somewhere, then say XXX claims that there has been little discussion etc. Otherwise you need to justify this claim more clearly. If there is overemphasis on redressing imbalances, what kind of imbalances are being addressed? economic? political? explain carefully.

Commented [c13]: reference?

Commented [c14]: so are you comparing levels of inequality? is this part of Huntington’s procedural definition? No. Perhaps you need to rethink which definition you claim to use. Abrahamsen says that the elections are important, but not the only important thing. So her definition allows you to compare the elections, but then also to go into depth about things like inequality.

Commented [c15]: Who?

in 1994, there have been many inequalities which are also constant as the poor are getting poorer

and the rich are getting richer. Even after attempts to change this reality have been taken through

the Black Economic Empowerment, only a few black South Africans are able to attempt to build

the huge gap between the rich and the poor.

David Samuels brings to light how democracy came about and was like under the rule of Luiz

Inácio Lula da Silva. Samuels states that “On January 1st 2003, for the first time in over forty

years, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva’s election was historically significant for Brazilian democracy in

several ways. At the most general level his inauguration symbolically closed the book on

Brazil’s transition to democracy” (Samuels, 2006: 1). “The full incorporation of the country’s

middle and lower classes into politics began in the late 1970s, and Lula’s victory completed the

process. Lula emphasized this facet of his and of his party’s trajectory in his campaign,

promising even greater participation for civil society in the government process” (Samuels,

2006: 1).

The rise of Lula in Brazil can be compared to the inauguration of Nelson Mandela in South

Africa in the year 1999. Many South Africans (particularly black South Africans) became very

optimistic about the introduction and implementation of democracy in South Africa particularly

by the heroic man who had just been voted into office as President. The introduction of

democracy during the time Nelson Mandela was in power symbolized a transition from a

dictatorship to a democracy. It also meant that the middle and lower class would be included in

the politics of South Africa with regards to how and who would govern them. However, unlike

Lula, in South Africa, it is rare to find the leaders of the ruling party (ANC) as ordinary citizens

with little or no relationship/ association with the party itself or the shared history of the

politicians and individuals that govern SA.

In South Africa on the other hand, there have been some changes that have occurred since South

Africa was declared a democratic country. Roger Southall looks at some of the changes that have

occurred in the democratic South Africa, he states that: “all colonial- racial restrictions have been

outlawed, racial dictatorship has been formally replaced by a constitutional state, the constitution

is one of the most advanced liberal democratic instruments in the world and thus according to

Commented [c16]: explain HOW BEE attempted to change this

Commented [c17]: do you have any figures for this? Making a claim that “Only a few…” needs to be backed up.

Commented [c18]: you mean REDUCE the gap

Commented [c19]: how democracy came about WHERE?

Commented [c20]: this quote is MUCH too long. Paraphrase in your own words.

Commented [c21]: it wasn’t a dictatorship. It was a minority rule – white South Africans voted democratically, but the black majority were not allowed to vote.

Commented [c22]: the new democracy included all RACES – so it wasn’t about letting the middle and lower classes vote – it was about allowing ALL people, regardless of rqace or class, vote.

Commented [c23]: you need to explain what was different – you can’t just say “Unlike Lula” without explaining what it was like for Lula. Also, what do you mean about the leaders of ANC as ordinary citizens – explain this clearly.

Commented [c24]: on the other hand of what? What are you comparing to?

conventional analysis South Africa is in the considerable way along the road of democratic”

(Southall, 2000: 1). Don’t just use a quote without explaining in your own words why you have

used it. Quotes must ADD to what YOU say, not replace your own explanations.

With that said, Southall mentions that “election outcomes have confirmed the African National

Congress (ANC) as hegemonic, as they enjoy a near two-thirds majority in parliament and

effective control of seven out of South Africa’s nine new provinces, with the opposition being in

a state of fragmentation” (Southall, 2000: 148) . With this said, Roger Southall questions if the

ANC will use its power to entrench the African majority at the expense of the minority interests?

(Southall, 2000: 148).

Commented [c25]: again – summarise this in your own words. You rely too heavily on quotes to say what you mean.

Politics 1(ES) Comparing the USA and India

Introduction for Politics term essay

Democracy is a concept or idea that and people have different ideas and thoughts about what

it should be. Having said that, democracy has always been used in a context of hope. When

we hear about people speaking about democracy, particularly poor people, it is always said

with a great sense of hope. So what is this democracy that people speak of? This word

originates from the Greek word “demokratia”, with ‘demo’ meaning ‘the people’. The other

half of it is ‘kratia’ which means ‘rule’. We can put this together and say democracy

according to Greek history is the people ruling. My essay will be very much based on what

Samuel Huntington has said about democracy and what it is. Huntington is very inspired by a

guy called Schumpeter in his definition of democracy. What Schumpeter said is that

democracy is not literally the people ruling but giving people the opportunity to choose or not

choose their rulers. He Huntington said a country is democratic if “it’s most powerful

collective decision makers are selected through fair, honest and periodic elections in which

candidates freely compete for votes and in which virtually all the adult population is eligible

to vote”(reference). He then went on to say that the “sine qua non” of democracy are

elections. So what Huntington is saying here is that elections and how they are conducted are

the core ingredient of any true democracy, those elections and how they are conducted. Civil

and political rights are very much what Huntington is championing forward because he feels

that one having these, is what democracy is about. Huntington then goes on to say that

democracy is the ‘freedom to publish, speak and organise’ (reference)according to those

political and civil rights. Huntington is very inspired by a guy called Schumpeter in his

definition of democracy. What Schumpeter said is that democracy is not literally the people

ruling but giving people the opportunity to choose or not choose their rulers. In this essay I

will be focusing on two countries which are seen as democratic states, and them being India

and the United States of America (USA). I’ll be analysing the countries’ democratic states

according to my understanding of democracies democracy and thoroughly investing

investigating whether these countries are indeed democracies. I will compare their

democracies as well as their electoral systems with in their democracies. If indeed they are

democracies it is also important to analyse the growth of their democracy and perhaps finding

solutions for those problems.

Commented [c1]: I love this part of the introduction. What worries me though is that even though you start with these questions, you then say you will choose Huntngton’s version of democracy – so in a way you set up the essay to look as though you are interested in the hopes of poor people, only to drop them and look at elections. Perhaps you need a sentence to link them. Something like: democracy inspires hope, perhaps because it is an opportunity for people to choose who their leaders are…. (this will lead nicely into the next bit.)

Commented [c2]: don’t use slang in an academic essay Langa.

Commented [c3]: don’t use slang in an academic essay Langa.

Commented [c4]: I moved this bit higher up because it made more sense there. You need to have a logical flow to you writing, and not merely put down points as you think of them – put similar ideas together….

Commented [c5]: isn’t this essay about comparing the democracies of two states in order to see which one is more democratic?

You need to explain WHY you choose Huntington’s definition – even if you say because it is

easier to comp-are using Huntington.

Otherwise this is fine. Please edit this – be careful of slang, and condensing words. (eg “Ill

be using…” must be “I will be using” etc.

Keep going!

INTRODUCTION

A myth can be defined as a an unproved false or collective that is used to justify a social

institution (Oxford dictionary), such as the myth that wars are fought to protect women and

children. and tThis is a problem for feminists, because in wars that are fought women and

children tend to be the ones that are affected the most and it cannot be said they are the

ones who are protected. whereas aAccording to Tickner “civilians casualties constitute

about 90 per cent of the casualties in today’s wars, and women and children make up the

majority of these casualties”(Tickner, 2008:264) and this contradicts with the statement

myth that wars are fought to protect women and children. and iIn this essay we will also

look at the different feminists approaches to security. BODY

The problematic part about the myth is that it is the same women who it is said to beare

“protected” that get raped by soldiers in a war and it has been said that “the rape is not just

an accident of war but often a systematic military strategy. It is estimated that twenty to

thirty five thousands women were raped during the war in Bosnia and

Herzegovina”(Tickner.2008:268)and this shows how much women and children are

victimised during a war that is supposedly fought to protect them and their children and

how little attention is given to their needs. and aAccording to Hendricks “rape in these

conflicts is a “’site for performing masculinity” ‘ and reaffirming heteronomativity”

(Hendricks, 2011:8)

And also the war is one of the causes why you will find mostly women and children are

refugees and -according to Tickner “women and children constitute the majority of the

world’s refugee population” (Tickner, 2008:268) and they are the ones who feel most of the

pain that is brought by the war. and Hendricks argued that “women remain

disproportionally affected by conflict and general violence”(Hendricks, 2011:22) and this

just shows how much untrue the myth is. and Blanchard said that women’s wartime roles

are as victims, protesters, promoters and participants (Blanchard, 2003:1300) and this is due

to the fact that women ddi did not like the war, and did not start the war, but were affected

by the war in different ways. and we We have just seen recently in Liberia where women

were platedplayed a crucial role in ending the war because of how much suffering they got

from the war.

Commented [c1]: This is a great introduction Siyabonga – it’s just that it is all one sentence. I have broken it up into smaller sentences, because it is easier to read that way. Okay?

According to Blanchard “the state is implicated in a way that women become the objects of

masculinist social control not only through direct violence (murder, rape, battering, incest),

but also through ideological constructs, such as ‘women’s work’ and the cult of

motherhood, that justify structural violence–inadequate health care, sexual harassment and

sex-segregated wages, rights and resources” (Blanchard, 2003:1296) and is this protecting

women and children? It is actually the opposite, this is enduring pain and suffering to the

same people who it is said claimed wars are fought to protect them.

Women are also exploited in a form of prostitution during the time of wars and exploitation

to be justified by claiming it is for national security and it is claimed that “as a part of an

attempt to provide a more hospitable environment for American troops, the South Korean

government undertook a policy of policing sexual health and work conduct of

prostitution”(Tickner, 2008:269) and what the South African state president said about

women that they should have children can have a negative impact on women to be seen as

reproducing machines of kids because of the influence he has because of the office he

occupies. Yes.

We can also see from the interference by the United States involvement in Afghanistan that

this is myth is a problem and according to Tickner “the US-led government war in

Afghanistan was partially justified as a heroic intervention on behalf of presumably helpless

Afghan women. The Taliban response was also shaped by gendered justification of

protecting their women from outside influence” (Tickner, 2008:269) and Blanchard argues

that “war creates the people. War produces power, individual collective” (Blanchard,

2003:1293) and this demonstrates that no women and children can be a justification that

wars are fought to protect them because the power that is created during the war is used

against women and children and Tickner argued that “when women took over factory jobs

vacated by men who went off to war, women were expected to return to traditional roles

when the war was over”(Tickner, 2008:269) and this illustrate how women were oppressed

even if the war was over.

The other unfortunate factor that women face during wars is that they get to be easy

targets that can easily accessible and according to Hendricks “thus, they target the women.

It is also argued that the fighters see the need to embarrass men from the opposing camp

Commented [c2]: This is a good quote Siyabonga, but what does it mean? We should never use such long quotes in an essay, and we should never use quotes without making very clear why we are using them. The quote suggests that even in times of peace, the state exerts a certain amount of control – “masculinist” control – over women, through direct violence, but also structural violence – so, society’s attitude to “women’s work”, the “cult of motherhood” – which is along the lines of Zuma’s claim that women need to have kids to get an extra training – and poor healthcare: all of these make women’s lives more vulnerable, more externally controlled, during PEACE TIME. So women don’t even need war in order to be vulnerable, and this is the point that feminists make: we need to think much more broadly about what we mean by security. Does this make sense?

and show them up as not being able to provide protection”( Hendricks, 2002:13) and this

results in sexual violence against women and these are some of the reasons why the myth is

a problem.

These above cases have been unfortunate and sad because women have a lot to offer to in

this world and now will look at feminists different approaches to security. and sSecurity is

defined as “the diminution of all forms violence, including physical, economic, and

ecological” (Tickner, 2008:270) and feminism can defined as “a movement dedicated to

achieve political, social and economic equality for women” (Tickner, 2008:265)

Women are needed to be included in policy-making so that different views are obtained so

that a policy is not biased towards a particular type of gender and Tickner in Blanchard says

“social and gender justice must be at the heart of any enduring peace, political, economic

and ecological relationships characterized by domination and subordination cannot coexist

with authentic security” (Blanchard, 2002:1298) and women’s involvement is needed

because of they are considered to have cool heads than men and this can lead into a

peaceful world that we can all live in. and Hendricks argued that “women needed to be

included in peacemaking and peacebuilding activities, stressing their rights to be included

and their ability to reflect the unique and/ or differentiated interests of women”( Hendricks,

2011:12) and we have seen in Liberia when the peace agreement was signed and the United

Nations sent in their troops and the locals had to give away their guns, and then the wars

was about to start again between the locals and troops but thank goodness to the Liberian

women they mobilised each other were able to contain the situation and eventually the

locals gave away their guns due to the involvement of the women who showed decisive

leadership. Lovely example.

We should also not look at gender but to look at how the problem can be solved. and

Thompson in Hendricks argued that “collapsing femininity and masculinity into the term

‘human’ could conceal the gendered underpinning of security practices”(Hendricks, 2011:6)

and this could be useful in getting women involved in decision-making processes and if that

is not done it will show what Hendricks argues that “gains made during the national

liberation struggles were not translated into gender equality in the post-independence

period”( Hendricks, 2011:10) and this is not acceptable due to the fact that if women are not

Commented [c3]: expand this point, because it is important: to feminists, security does not only mean national or state security, but also individual, community and family security. And these are issues for peace-time as well as war-time.

Commented [c4]: What Hendricks meant here was this: if we don’t use a “gender lens”, and we collapse male and female into ONE term, human, then we assume that men and women have the same experience. But we know that when we use the term “human” we really mean “men”, because we live in a patriarchal society. So, in the liberation struggle, people argued that we should NOT look at gender, but all fight for “human” issues, and so when apartheid ended we still had the oppression of women – which shows that collapsing the terms of male and female into one term means that women will be left out altogether.

made part of these processes after war that is “peace-making and post-conflict

reconstruction they will not be sustainable”(Hendricks, 2011:15) and also because to

“essentialises women as peaceful and illustrate how women draw on their feminine roles to

get men to lay down arms”( Hendricks, 2011:12) and this is an important feature of women

to show they are needed for their skills in the international sphere because of they are

considered to be more accountable than men.

CONCLUSION

You make some very good points, Siyabonga. Sometimes your sentences are too long –

you use “and” much too much. Rather keep the sentences short. Also, I think you have

only used three references – Tickner 2008, Blanchard and Hendricks. You need to read two

more, and add any insights they have to what you have written. I think you are still a little

thin on what feminists say about security.

But yes, keep going, you are definitely on the right track!

Commented [c5]: again, you are using a quote without explaining what it is for. This quote means: if we “essentialise” women – in other words, if we say women are like THIS (eg, peace-loving), we limit all that they can be. So yes, while women might be socialised to be more peacefull, and they can use their femininity to get men to lay down arms, this is not the only thing they are or can be. Make sense?

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