Solitude and Reflection

 This will probably be a short Sunday morning post from me as I have a busy day of writing and editing ahead. In fact I have a very busy week ahead with many deadlines at the end of the week and Summer Camp for instructors running at the beginning of the week with close to 150 participants. 

At first I was going to write a blog today about that ridiculous post that was making the rounds on Twitter which assigned points and grades to students having their eyes on the screen, or staying to the very end of class, etc. You have probably seen that ridiculous post, and the many responses to it, about just how bad such a framework is pedagogically and how it is extremely non-inclusive of neurodivergent learners. So I mean there’s not much to stay more about that post in particular, but the post does raise some great questions about what happened to critical pedagogy and the value of reflection.

One of the many aspects of critical pedagogy is the ability to take time and reflect on your practice, and modify anything that may not be working well, that may not be inclusive, or that needs to be more holistic or comprehensive as a framework. That horrible post had none of the markers of reflective practice. There was a lack of awareness in the scheme, and a reinforcement of very old pedagogical practices that have been since very much disputed based on evidence and research. 

But the other part of this is a very introspective one for me, do you have time to reflect? Honestly, that’s the question- do you have time to reflect and when is the last time you spent time reflecting? We have been working diligently on engaging and pedagogically inclusive remote strategies, but all of that requires a stop, a time-out, to figure out what works well- but we have been given no time to time-out, because September is fast approaching. I read a book yesterday that discussed the tension and difference between loneliness (which I have felt rather deeply during this pandemic as I approach 5 months of being home and have only left my house 7 times in that time for very specific errands) and solitude. The book suggested that it is in those moments of solitude that you find the thought nuggets that become part of further research and great praxis. It is in those moments of solitude (and not loneliness say) that academics find their next projects, or hone their next great breakthrough. I wish I could say I am there, but I am really not and that’s rather upsetting. 

The fact that I am upset that I have not used these 5 months to some sort of great academic breakthrough, or reveling in my monkish situation, demonstrates just how much that academic productivity cycle is ingrained in me. I have had something like 3 articles come out during this pandemic, and I have 2 more that I have to write before October with colleagues. But somehow when I do step back the voice is saying “not enough” be Thoreau (even though I can’t stand Thoreau). And ultimately the reason for all of this is that I actually don’t have time to really stop, I don’t have time to reflect at all. Yes I acknowledge the privilege of having weekends off like most who work a 5 day a week job, but they are not off. I am always thinking of my to-dos for the week, I am always adding to my list (which they say is a good way to give your brain a break from thinking about all the thoughts). When your brain is never off, even at night when you should be sleeping, how can you ever give yourself space for real reflection? And again more importantly how can you be expected to in the middle of a pandemic?

Yes some of this is work ethic stuff, yes some of this is academic culture stuff, and certainly all of this is privileged position stuff, and I am very sure that most of you who read this blog can really connect to what I am saying right now. The pandemic has given us the space for solitude, but our responsibilities, work related, family related, emotionally related, have given us instead spaces for us to think about our loneliness and how overwhelming this all is. We are always so hard on ourselves, but when you remember the context we are living through, it is ridiculous to be that hard on ourselves; just as ridiculous as it is to ask students to stare at a screen 98% of the time (because clearly that writer has not had the time to think this thing through- or maybe I am being too generous). 

I have a week filled with engagement with faculty, I have monograph edits deadline at the end of the week, and then ideally I have a week of vacation. Is it during that time that I will move from loneliness to solitude? Is it during that time that I will have the space to reflect and not just spin wheels on the same things over and over again? Maybe, but we will still be in a pandemic next week, as we will be for the foreseeable future. We ask learners to bring their authentic experience to assessments, activities, and course concepts, so why don’t we in our work? So here goes...my name is Ann, I live alone with a cat, I have no one to speak to about my daily experiences, I study touch which has now become the most important sense in relation to the pandemic, a sense that we must refrain from, a sense that must be mediated, a sense that we are enforcing boundaries around in our daily lives and our pedagogy. I am not Thoreau, this unit that I live in is no Walden, and acknowledging this is step one.