Week 7 - That's Entertainment

If you ask people who have seen the movie “Goodfellas” (and who hasn’t seen “Goodfellas”) what their favorite scene is, you are likely to hear the Joe Pesci scene where Ray Liotta’s character tells Pesci that he is funny. One of the key lines in that exchange is when Joe Pesci says “I’m funny how? Funny like a clown? I amuse you? I make you laugh? I’m here to (bleeping) amuse you?” If you know the scene, you know that the Pesci character is putting on the Liotta character, giving him a hard time in a humorous way. But in every joke, there is a bit of truth.

I have to admit that this thought has gone through my mind on more than one occasion while being in front of the classroom. For me, I find being moderately entertaining relatively easy. I can tell a story, spin a yarn, make a joke, keep things light. I don’t know that I could do a 10 minute set at the Comedy Store, but after over 20 years in front of a class I am comfortable enough to hold a room.

That’s fine as far as having a skill goes, but it raises a larger question: Is that what is required of teaching now? Is the job not just to have mastery over content and knowledge, but also to be entertaining? Are we evolving (or have we evolved) into what rapper KRS-One called ‘edutainment?’ Do we need to sing and dance in order to have students be at least somewhat engaged? And if they are not engaged, is it because we are not entertaining enough? Maybe we need to try out new material in smaller rooms before moving into the classroom. Such a charge is a lot to take on given the other pressures that are part of modern-day professorial academic work. It’s not as demanding as doing roofing shingles in July, or something else you might see on “Dirty Jobs,” but it does have its own sets of requirements and demands that can drain the life-force from your soul.

Sometimes as an instructor, as I have wrote about previously, you just want to deliver content without having to somersault, twist and contort like a performer in a Cirque du Sociology show. It is a lot of work to have to deliver a performance, let alone the work of trying to assure learning outcomes, be a mentor and adviser, attend to other publishing and service commitments. Now you also have to channel your inner Robin Williams in “Good Will Hunting”.

Office hours, Robin Williams style

Now granted, the idea of channeling your inner Robin Williams is likely an attractive proposition to teachers. Most professors would like to fancy themselves as Robin Williams. Perhaps not the Mork from Ork Robin Williams. Or the “One Hour Photo” Robin Williams. Rather, we want to be the “Good Will Hunting” or “Dead Poets Society” Robin Williams. Or maybe even the “Patch Adams” or “Awakenings” Robin Williams. I’ll even allow the “Mrs. Doubtfire” Robin Williams. We want to be that person who is inspirational and makes a difference in people’s lives through the connections we can make and the work that we do. We want students to hear our words and be transformed through them.

This, however, does not come without a price of time and effort, and such things are in pretty short supply. We should add that time and effort are zero-sum games: the more you take from one area, the less you have to give another area. It is a balancing act for sure, and it is easy to get out of balance, or at least stressed continuously walking that tight rope. Which goes back to the question, why can’t I just deliver content to a receptive class that is there to learn what I came to teach? And additionally, are students being entertained the same as students learning? How much work is it going to take to combine education and learning, especially when the class becomes an audience (and a tough crowd at that)?

During the past week, I will freely admit I was more engaged in content delivery with a dash of updated material versus a complete show relaunch with new set design and elaborate dance numbers. Besides, the success of a classroom performance is not just one me. Any audience has to do their part to make a great performance, or even an average one. When the audience does not react, it is hard to build the momentum necessary to create those moments of shared experience. Or worse, what if they are reacting badly? On the other hand, is anything worse than no reaction, no one really registering your actual presence in front of them? How well do you know you are doing if the crowd doesn’t react? And as professors we require some degree of crowd reaction, or what we call class participation.

At a certain point, the class needs to buy into the idea of learning. Furthermore, it is not just the professor who can control that outcome. No matter how much you sell something, you are facing an uphill battle if people don’t want to buy it. This point takes me back to the shared responsibilities that we established as a class in SO246, where the students have to be committed to engaging the class that they are helping to create. If they don’t do their part, it is harder for me to do my part.

Ultimately, the course co-design approach is a good impetus for many things, such as getting faculty to fundamentally rethink those things that they have grown accustomed to doing in their classes. It also is a good way to initially get students out of the passive zone of content reception and into a mode of co-creation. It does not seem to be a magic wand to perform the academic alchemy of turning the lead of student disinterest into the gold of a Robin William’s movie.

A professor showing course design alchemy to the curriculum committee

During this more subdued and more traditional week, we did manage to get through the class content well enough, which involved understanding the job of law enforcement. I provided some slides along with personal examples and conversational prompts sprinkled in, which was enough to get us through the week. I was even able to bring in a virtual guest speaker police officer. The students previously had said that guest speakers helps to facilitate their learning. Fair enough! More guest speakers it is. Every headliner needs an opening act to keep things fresh.

While Week 7 lacked the panache and innovation of previous weeks, sometimes you have to get back to basics and play a stripped down version of the greatest hits. Besides, goin to the same material and approach over and over again can make the more entertaining performance stale over time. I am finding having that performative tool kit, and seeing opportunities to pull from it as needed, to be a critical skill in the on-going design of learning experiences. After all, in the immortal words of The Jam, “That’s Entertainment.”