So, here's the thing. #ImaginationWork asks us to think beyond that which exists currently, to move past our default ways of negotiating the classroom, and to live out the words "what if" in such a way that we can creatively and collectively imagine better ways of teaching, learning, knowing, and being.
Let me tell you. With all the #ImaginationWork I've put into (re)imagining ways of being in the online classroom, none of it prepared me to receive the following private Zoom message from a student:
Yo, this is gonna sound weird, but this has been bothering me the whole semester, but you look like callmekris [sic] from tiktok and I wasn't able to figure it out until now.
Hm, okay. This is a new one.
Let me be honest. Vulnerable, for a moment.
My impulse was not to see this unsolicited compliment (?) as humorous or lighthearted or a bid for connection or validation that anyone thinks I'm cool enough to understand TikTok (unless we're talking ke$ha's 2009 banger, that's a different story). Nor was it to stop and think to myself, Wow! What a great pop culture reference that I could consider incorporating into my critical communication pedagogy!
Nope. Get that positivity out of here.
My first thought was, maybe if you all spent more time in office hours and less time on TikTok then you'd be plugged in and ready to go for your final projects! But, by all means, slide in to my Zoom chat instead of engaging in the course lecture.
Just so we're clear, I'm not cool enough to understand TikTok and definitely was not familiar with kallmekris. A quick google search populated images of a femme blonde white person with glasses and blue eyes. Okay, sure, must be the hair. *eye roll*
Not wanting to come off as cold, I responded in a *hip* and kind way: LOL - thx I'll check them out! *internal eye roll*
What? Who put that cranky, jaded instructor inside my head? What happened to #ImaginationWork and creative connection and meeting students where they are? What about knocking down classroom hierarchies and relational pedagogy and flattening power dynamics between students and teachers?
Why did this bother me so much?
Upon reflection, there are many reasons why, not all I'm proud to admit. Blurred boundaries is the big one. The heterotopian-ness of it all.
I've got Comm 1010 students @-ing me in GroupMe about team projects at odd hours and an office adjacent to my bedroom. The line between personal and professional is so very thin already. So, my knee-jerk reaction was to really wish synchronous teaching sessions could just involve...teaching course content.
Also, as a young, femme-presenting instructor, I tend to mediate my role in the classroom through the way I dress and perform my identity. I conduct myself and perform my identity in the classroom in ways that demonstrate that I respect myself, my knowledge, and the fact that I'm responsible for the facilitation of the classroom. It's amazing how far a sharp pair of loafers and blazer will take you. I can't think of a time I've been interrupted during in-person instruction for a student to casually comment on my appearance.
Sharp loafers and other symbols of status fall short of the Zoom frame, though. In fact, from a gallery view, there's no discernible difference between me as a TA and the grid of undergrads. Because what is the difference, really, if our aim is education as a practice of freedom? A handful of years of life experience and formal education? If that is the metric, what a disservice is done to students by discounting the complexity of their lives and experiences. I clearly have some work to do in terms of, as my colleague has so aptly articulated, #RethinkingStatus in the classroom. I'll be focusing my #ImaginationWork toward that in the future.
To wrap this up, I suspended my *eye rolls* and ego long enough to download TikTok and investigate kallmekriss further. Let's just say...I'm now convinced it's not "just the hair."
It's also probably the facial expressions. And perhaps the .... well, if you swap "fold in the cheese" for "complete Module 10"....you get the idea.
LOL.
Hey Leah,
ReplyDeleteFor me, a lot of the things you say resonate with me. I have personally found it hard to relate to my students, but also to find the line of vulnerability. As someone who is navigating their gender identity and performance in a space of undergrads, who may or not have any clue what that means, I find it hard to want to/feel comfortable enough in being vulnerable. I am someone that does very well with structure and rules. When students blur the heterotopian line of instructor v. student that I was taught, it feels as though they are breaking a rule, but also I am faced with the internal questioning of "why should the binary matter?"
I find the idea of Imagination Work fascinating. Specifically, we as scholars should be able to re-imagine things such as hierarchy in education and status roles. In the time we are in of Zoom University, I have found myself a place of leniency and understanding more so than before. As I have mentioned before, rules and structure is important to me, but what happens when our structure and routine is thrown out? We have to change and adapt. This is admittedly harder than I thought it would be, however it seems necessary.
-Alyx
Hi Leah,
ReplyDeleteThank you for making me chuckle! I also appreciate your willingness to suspend your disbelief for a moment or two and see where the similarities lie. The work that you're doing in considering Imagination Work, particularly in the context of respectful and egalitarian environments is (as you know), HARD. It is also not without moments of relapse, and hopefully with subsequent moments of growth or comedic release. You've painted a picture of that process that feels accessible and undeniably real, and I thank you for that.
I'll also add (although I think you know): it's perfectly alright for you to not ALWAYS be able to espouse positivity, particularly in a time where you are endlessly burdened by short attention spans and lack of follow through.