Teaching Is a Political Act
Education cannot be apolitical. Teachers either help students learn to think critically or indoctrinate the next generation.
Tears fell and my chest heaved as I sat, head in hands, on a stranger’s stoop in Potosí, Bolivia. I was trying to run from pain, confusion, and a deep sense of loss. But, 14,000 feet of altitude stopped me in my tracks. I’m grateful that there was no escape, because it was a transformational moment in my life. That day I died a social death.
Over the preceding four years, I had educators and experiences — including my study abroad program in Bolivia with the School for International Training (SIT) — that supported my deeply political learning. I was constantly challenged to question assumptions that shaped my world-view and sense of self. It was a cycle of inquiry into my core beliefs related to race, class, nationality, and gender. Each assumption I’d unpacked left me with more questions about the world and my relationship to it. My most influential educators didn’t teach me what to think about politics — they taught me how to think about politics and my place within them.
Principle of Learning and Teaching #6:
Learning and teaching are intellectual, social, cultural, spiritual, and emotional processes.
Teaching is not supposed be political, right? Math, science, languages, literature, and history should be taught objectively. This is the story we so often tell about education, and it makes sense. If teachers were to teach their political agenda in the form of supporting a political party or a particular “ism” of belief, students would learn a skewed version of their subjects. They’d only learn to see one version of the world.
While there is truth in this perspective, it’s also problematic. In Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Paulo Freire posits that education is an inherently political act. An “objective” presentation of a subject would have to avoid the real world tensions that make the subject relevant. If we teach the reproductive system in biology without discussing tensions related to reproductive rights, we’re choosing to not support students in developing a rigorous understanding of the issue.
James Loewen’s book Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong offers a stark study of how political agendas can shape education. Loewen showed that because history textbooks have to be adopted by the state boards of California and Texas to be profitable, the content must be politically palatable to the liberal and conservative ends of the spectrum. The result is a treatment of history that is so lacking in tensions and relevance that it is truly divorced from the real world. When history fails to explore the tensions that have shaped communities, governments, and society, students miss the opportunity to gain perspective on the biggest issues of their day.
This principle matters because it acknowledges that meaningful education is never about the accumulation of sterile facts and skills. Education is the intellectual and emotional process of examining cultural, social, and spiritual knowledge and beliefs. This principle requires us to recognize and incorporate the socio-political and cultural contexts in which we teach. It implores us to help students find meaning and purpose in their learning as preparation to contribute to society. These are political actions by educators because they shape how students behave as citizens.
Name Your Political Agenda
Embracing the political nature of education does not mean educators should endorse a political party or platform. Rather, it requires educators to articulate why they are teaching. If the goal is to prepare students to become productive employees, or if it is to train learners to respect authority and adhere to specific cultural norms, these values and the underlying assumptions should be made clear.
My political agenda is to equip students to engage productively with the tensions in our world. I assume inclusive and democratic societies require citizens with the skills to learn and reflect critically. I assume all people have the capacity to learn through rigorous academics and lived experience. My values are rooted in a firm faith in the human capacities of love and intellect. I believe political, economic, and cultural institutions should strive to create humanizing relationships among people. These aims are not partisan, but they are political.
I pursue this agenda by creating educational spaces that help students develop a sense of purpose and ownership for their learning. I work to support skill development related to rigorous academics, critical thinking, and reflection. I root my teaching in confronting the tensions that we all face in our world, and challenge students to hear and share perspectives that inform a dynamic understanding. I strive to serve as a guide for students in their learning, while also demonstrating that I am learning along with them. I ask questions and acknowledge what I don’t yet understand. I aim for students to leave our time together confident in their ability to learn, to accept that there are no definitive answers, and to invite others to join them in their life long cycle of inquiry.
Do I share my political opinions? Yes. But, I only do so in moments when I see signs that the classroom culture and power has shifted from the teacher being seen as the sole source of knowledge. Understanding that my positional authority can give my perspectives undue weight, I withhold until students are ready to hear my contributions as another voice in the room rather than the voice in the room.
This principle points to the importance of considering how our understanding of society, culture, and spirituality affects and is affected by our intellect and emotions. In the learning that led to my social death, all of these factors were at play. As a White, college educated, American male I asked:
- How can I contribute to equity and justice if I am the benefactor of systems that are inequitable and unjust?
- How can I have humanizing relationships with myself and others in a culture and society that dehumanizes at every turn?
As I engaged with my peers in my study abroad program, my homestay families in Bolivia, the high school athletes I coached in urban Los Angeles, and the immigrants I worked with at a restaurant on my campus, these questions took on an emotional weight that was ever-present.
While questions and experiences like these ushered in my social death, they also set the stage for a rebirth. I no longer saw political barriers as insurmountable. I came to see that most people were just like me — we wanted to love and be loved by others. I didn’t have to have answers to do this, I just had to humbly ask questions with others who were willing to do the same. I was reborn able to live in the question and build relationships with myself and others that aren’t defined entirely by the powerful and ubiquitous political messages of our society related to race, class, gender, sexuality, etc. This educational moment didn’t root me in partisan politics. But, it did prepare me to define my political relationship with the world rather than have it defined for me.
Political Pedagogy
Pedagogy that embraces this principle strives to integrate intellectual, social, cultural, spiritual, and emotional learning. Some approaches worth considering include:
- Facilitate humanizing connections across barriers. Spending time in homes and communities generates empathy and an openness to hearing the perspectives of others.
- Tie subjects to tensions students face in the real world to help them understand and own the tools they are learning to wield.
- Name and examine tensions related to power and inequity within the classroom.
- Create a culture of trust and reward healthy vulnerability by supporting sharing and hearing challenging perspectives.
- Validate emotions as part of the learning process, provide adequate support in difficult moments, and help students develop the skills to aid themselves and others.
This principle requires educators and learners to acknowledge the messiness of learning. Like life, it is filled with ups and downs. It includes causes for both celebration and mourning. This is where the beauty of learning relationships lives — in how we come together in the processes of becoming who we want to be and creating the world we want.
This post is part of a series supporting educators in reflecting on their pedagogy and practice. Read the intro to this series If We Don’t Work on Pedagogy, Nothing Else Matters or explore the most recent posts below.
The Transformative Power of Inquiry ← P R E V I O U S
N E X T → Learning to Let Go as a Teacher
