Applying Feminist Teaching Practices During a Pandemic
Between offering some grace to negotiating late policies, the chaos continues
As the world now knows, we were never fully prepared. As the days have passed in this pandemic, all of academia has been trying to be proactive. Underneath it all, there is a sense of worry.
We worry about the fact that the students were being asked to produce work in a distressful environment. Some of them may not have had access to technology or a safe place to live. We worry about grading privilege rather than actual ability. We worry about how to move forward safely.
This moment has impacted all parts of academia, and the classroom was the first to move forward without much guidance. Depending on individual institutions and departments, some professors and instructors had many resources while others had none.
What made the sudden transition to remote learning easier for me was not about access to resources. Rather, it was about what I label feminist teaching practices.
An important part of feminist teaching practices is grounded in working with the reality of students and their lives — not what we imagine their lives to be — but the actual reality they must live through every day.
I teach at a diverse university in a state that is often on the bottom of lists related to education or funding for education. Our students have widely different backgrounds.
Some come directly from high school, some have taken a gap year. They would be labeled “traditional” students. Some are undocumented. Some live with families and work forty hours a week to help support their families. Some have no support network because they decided to tell their families that they are gay or transgender.
I don’t think my students are unusual. I think that most universities and colleges have students who have radically different lives from twenty or thirty years ago.
Feminist teaching practices have helped me to create a classroom that still has high expectations, that works with the students’ lives rather than fight against them. My classroom openly acknowledges that these realities will impact student learning and success.
Some of the most important policies and practices that successfully impacted my classes are: an open late policy and multiple opportunities for grading. These practices ultimately revolve around flexibility and compassion.
Late policy.
My late policy is neither fancy nor radical. It is a realistic policy that mimics the world outside of academia. My syllabus reads:
If you know you are going to need more time for an assignment, please ask for it. I will accept late work if you speak with me before the due date to create a new reasonable due date.
When I go over this in class, I explicitly tell them that they do not need to provide a reason, only a new reasonable new date.
Most of them do not believe me. It usually takes one or two students to successfully navigate the policy for word to spread. I have used this policy for the past few years and students don’t abuse it. I don’t get many requests for these extensions, only from the students who need it.
My late policy does more than simply allow students to manage their own lives. It helps them save face when they need it most. Because they do not have to explain the need for more time, they can keep their lives private.
This policy translated well to my remote classroom. I made it clear that anyone who asked for more time would be given it. For those whose lives drastically changed, I reached out to them, reminding them that we were partners in this new class, and that communication was going to save us both.
My simple email encouraged them to ask, and they became more proactive and began to control their own chaos.
Multiple Opportunities.
Instead of creating two high stakes lengthy assignments that are collected at the end of the semester, I collected smaller assignments at the end of each unit throughout the semester. This practice allowed me to provide final grades confidently, in the middle of the semester.
Two of my students developed Covid 19 two weeks into our return with a remote classroom.
I was able to tell them that they could consider their grade final. They no longer had to worry about class. Because I saw evidence of written work and a research process early in the semester, I saw progress in the course goals.
The feminist practice of allowing students multiple opportunities to achieve the class goals, instead of a single assignment or exam, allowed me to keep my high expectations and work within the reality of a sick student’s life.
The truth was that I wanted them to focus on their health and recovery, not a paper for a class.
This pedagogical practice also worked for students who did not have access to technology. The digital divide is very real for my students. When these students were forced to return home with little notice, some returned to a home without a laptop or computer or wifi.
Students who didn’t have access to technology were very reluctant to tell me. It seemed to me that they did not want me, a symbol of the university, to know that they did not have what everyone else seemed to have. It was only after a few missed assignments and emails did they spill the beans.
Once they told me, I was able to give them a grade for the semester because I had seen evidence of their progress and work. I saw that they had met most of the goals of the class from the first paper.
My feminist teaching practices provided a moment of relief in a chaotic time.
Flexibility.
I revise my syllabus every semester when I see that my class can benefit from extra time. I tell the students that the syllabus calendar represents the best possible outcome — that it’s wishful thinking. I always end up cutting or adding an activity, an assignment, a reading. I live within the reality our class.
For example, before we left for spring break, after reading a draft of papers, I realized that we needed to spend some time dealing with counter arguments. Instead of putting a comment on most of the papers, I sent an email requesting that they bring a copy of their papers to class, either electronically or on paper.
We spent two more class sessions revising their papers with peer revisions and group work. Sometimes, the students needed more time to revise; sometimes, we spent more time on a reading than I originally wanted.
Because I already live in a state of flexibility when I went to remote learning, I was able to quickly cut out assignments and readings to create a more realistic calendar that students could manage under these conditions.
Working through my syllabus was not a sad moment, but an empowering one, because I knew I was going to help students make progress under extraordinary circumstances.
Revisions.
I believe in the power of revision. Writing, even under the best of circumstances, is time consuming. Under a pandemic, writing can become unimaginable for some.
On larger assignments, I allow any student who turned in a draft to resubmit for a new grade. To help manage my time, there is a time requirement. They must complete the revision within a week.
This policy translated well to remote learning. Students who took more time to adjust to the pandemic had more opportunities to earn the grade they wanted. If they chose to, they could control their experiences in class, — especially in a time when too much seemed outside of their control.
Revising gave them that opportunity, if they wanted it.
Individual Grading.
When grading with a rubric, I never compare the student’s work to each other. I understand that each paper is its own entity that stems from unique experiences. An “A” for one student can look very different than an “A” for another student.
The practice overlaps with teaching SLL (Second Language Learners) students. I often have SSL students in my composition courses, and their work looks different from students who speak the native language. I use the same rubric, but the requirements for what “strong use of transitions to connect ideas” changes for SLL students.
Those transitions may seem awkward to a reader who speaks the native language, but the SLL student used a transition and for them that is a “strong use.” Under a pandemic, it means that they managed to use a few and most paragraphs were connected.
Because I was already in that mode, when I graded assignments from students who were writing during the pandemic, I automatically switched gears and graded with that lens.
I adjusted my expectations based on what was going on around us.
Grace.
Feminist teaching operates firmly in reality. Feminist teaching as a practice helps instructors and professors put things into perspective.
When a student does not have access to reliable shelter and food, their work will be different. When a student suffers from depression, their work will be different. When a student comes from a culture that writes differently, their work will be different.
When a student has to sit in a course with her attacker because she is too afraid to report an incident, her work will be different.
When we directly acknowledge that academia and its trappings does not change a student’s life, we can change academia to create thoughtful, compassionate thinkers who have a chance at improving their own lives, no matter what path they take.
Not only will we survive moments like this, but we can teach them that compassion matters.
All universities and colleges are working to create a vision of campus life that keeps students, faculty members, and employees safe. No one knows what that looks just yet. We cannot go back to the way we operated before, and that is a good thing.
We shouldn’t go back to the normal practices of higher education because they were only serving a certain type of student. If we want them to return to our classes, we need to examine our own teaching methods and attitudes towards students and their relationships to learning.
We can find a balance that helps students succeed with a quality education. We can acknowledge the uncertainty that both students and instructors face, even when we aren’t facing a pandemic.
We can help them feel more in control in a time when we spend most moments in chaos.
