Reading SoTL: Professional mindfulness for teaching

When I decided to pursue graduate studies in educational research, it was with the hope that scholarship would strengthen pedagogical practices in the humanities. That inquisitiveness also led me to the scholarship of teaching and learning. It seemed to me that if teaching and learning are to be informed by scholarship, research should emerge from the places where the learning takes place.

In my current role, as an educational developer, I often return to that early conviction with renewed clarity. Each semester, I am reminded that teaching is not static but a living, shifting, deeply relational practice. And when faculty look at their habits of head, heart, and hand, to examine their teaching with curiosity rather than judgment, SoTL is not only an academic project but a rich form of professional mindfulness. I see that mindfulness each time I see a faculty member pausing to ask variations of the following questions: What’s happening in my classroom that I haven’t yet seen or can’t see clearly? How can I make the necessary changes that will make the most sense for learning? And how can I know?

There are no quick-fix responses to some teaching-related questions. Professional mindfulness requires some dwelling with the questions emerging from the peculiarities of the learning contexts. Gadamer’s ideas about interpretation and understanding have grounded my research in the humanities, and lately they have resurfaced with poignant force. In The Hermeneutical Imagination, Jon Nixon argued that Gadamer’s ideas may provide insight into what we are trying to do as educators and what learners are experiencing. I am inclined to agree and that’s why Gadamer’s notion of verweilen (dwelling) has captured my attention again.

I call “whiling” [Verweilen, tarrying, lingering], a lingering that occupies this presentness and into which all mediatory discourse of interpretation must enter. (Gadamer, 2007, p. 189)

And that’s where I think the early engagement with SoTL truly begins. Not necessarily in a research project that arrives crisp and defined, but in dedicated immersion to the complexities and niggling questions about teaching and learning. SoTL work may benefit from dwelling with the questions to be able to ask the question that really matters. 

It begins with noticing. 

It is noticing where students lean in, where they hesitate, where learning strains against the edges of what we once assumed about teaching. It is recognizing that evidence does not always arrive in neat tables or tidy graphs. And with the questions that flutter in the consciousness, it is going back to that initial experience of noticing and then dwelling with the readings, and the conversations with colleagues. And on a rare occasion, the conversations with a stranger on a line in the supermarket, telling you something about their child’s learning experience, leading you to consider a part of the question that you’d not included. (a valuable unplanned digression, a necessary meandering)

The temporal structure of tarrying [with an artwork] …It is not a doing of this and that, first this and then that; it is a whole that is present in the seeing, and in the considering that one is immersed in—or if we prefer to listen to the deep wisdom of language: in dem man aufgeht—“in which one is absorbed.” (Gadamer, 2007, p. 211)

There’s a strange effect of dwelling with the development of a research question, for me. I start to see it everywhere. I see its delicate filaments in all sorts of unexpected places, firming up, loosening, and then firming up again. Then the question becomes its own living breathing entity. Yes, I might be steering, but the topic is also pulsating at its own pace, until I begin to see it as a companion to thinking about teaching or learning. It is akin to the hermeneutic address.

An address functions to interrupt or unsettle our everyday taken-for-grantedness of things. This is why it arrives typically in the form of a question or set of questions. (Moules et al., 2014, p. 7)

Gadamer also asserted that “the essence of a question is to open up possibilities” (2013, p. 310). So it’s not surprising that I am compelled to turn to other SoTL for more companionship, to explore possibilities for teaching and learning. Reading other SoTL or other scholars who have addressed some threads that are woven throughout my own queries helps me stitch things together. Reading SoTL, then, is not simply surveying literature and preparing a literature review. Reading SoTL is a dialogue, and it is an attunement practice. More dwelling.

As a journal editor, I’ve put together a brief list of SoTL readings to help me be better able to draw from the thinkers that can help me situate projects in conversation with the SoTL community. You can find it here if you need to dwell with others for a while.

There is a slow, deliberate quality to SoTL that appeals to me, especially in a time of information overload and acceleration, and quick pedagogical fixes. Ciccone said that one of the conditions for a good SoTL question is that it “should raise more questions than it answers and thus invite further research” (2018, p. 19). Ahh, that’s right, possibilities. SoTL asks us to linger. To dwell. To look again. To notice. Not always as steps, but a threading within the complexities of teaching practice.

And perhaps this is why SoTL still beckons to me after all these years. It reminds me that pedagogy is not perfected; it is practiced. It is not a random collection of techniques, but an attunement. And in returning to the SoTL literature, I find myself returning to the very heart, head, and hands of the work: to curiosity, to learning, and to inquiry. Noticing, reading, dwelling.

Inspirations

Ciccone, A. (2018). Learning matters: Asking meaningful questions. In N. L. Chick, (Ed.). Sotl in action: Illuminating critical moments of practice (pp. 15-22). Stylus.

Gadamer, H.-G. (2007). The Gadamer reader: A bouquet of the later writings. Northwestern University Press.

Gadamer, H.-G. (2013). Truth and method (2nd rev. ed.) (J. Weinsheimer, & D.G. Marshall, Trans.). Bloomsbury Academic. (Original work published 1960)

Moules, N. J., Field, J. C., McCaffrey, G. P., & Laing, C. M. (2014). Conducting hermeneutic research: The address of the topic. Journal of Applied Hermeneutics. https://doi.org/10.55016/ojs/jah.v2014Y2014.53242

Nixon, J. (2017). Hans-Georg Gadamer: the hermeneutical imagination. Springer International Publishing.

Embracing relational pedagogy in higher education

I’m an unabashed advocate for relational pedagogy in higher education. Almost every session I deliver, I try to incorporate the idea of students as partners, as an ethic for higher education. I see students as partners as an extension of the values associated with relational pedagogy. The idea I tend to guard a bit more is that students do not need to be perfect learners to be worthy of an instructor’s respect, empathy, and care for their experience as learners. Students do not have to be dazzling stars to be worthy of receiving an instructor’s curiosity and interest in their success and well-being. I recognize that this stance might be challenging for some educators, so I’m careful about how vocal I am without suggesting some pathways for educators to practice relational pedagogy.

Kindness as part of relational pedagogy

As I’m developing a September session on kindness in higher education, I’m encouraged by the recent publications dedicated to the topic. It’s not about an instructor being sugar and spice and everything nice. Kindness and relational pedagogy align more with critical pedagogy, trauma-informed pedagogy, and the commitment to removing barriers to student success. There’s also the implicit effect of not re-traumatizing students who have complex struggles. For instructors committed to similar approaches and providing scaffolding to help students meet their goals, relational pedagogy implies relationship building. Relational pedagogy can’t always be decided before getting to know students, but there are some things that can be done in advance of a lesson or meeting students.

Consider punitive language in course outlines or assignment directives. Punitive language is so normative that one might not see any harm in it. I’ll admit there was a time when I thought of punitive language as necessary in order to be firm with students. Now, I’ll ask – is it possible to be firm as an instructor without the harsh tone of penalties in statements such as: Students will receive zero if assignments are not submitted by the deadline. How about reframing the statement?

Assignments must be submitted by the stated deadline to receive meaningful feedback and credit. If you experience extenuating circumstances (e.g., illness, emergency), please contact me before the deadline to discuss options.

In my experience, when students have options to address emergencies or life events that interfere with their ability to meet deadlines, more often than not, they do not want unnecessary extensions. I recall a student needing an extra day for a very valid life event. I suggested even an additional day and they declined, insistent that they only needed one day. A student team member who was present for the conversation (I think there to give moral support), whispered to them, “take it, take it” (meaning the extra 2 days) but they were not interested in exploiting the extension. I have not forgotten that interaction and the mutual benefit – an extension for the student’s wellbeing and a renewal in my optimism that students are genuinely trying. Years later, Denial’s discourse on kindness pedagogy makes sense to me. Denial says it is a practice of “believing students” who express struggle, even though there is always the risk that some students try to exploit kindness.

I would rather take that risk, and deal with exceptions as they arise, than make life more difficult for students struggling with grief or illness or even an overpacked schedule or faulty electronics.

(Denial, 2024, p. 9)
A book titled 'A Pedagogy of Kindness' by Catherine J. Denial is resting on a wooden table with an ink pen placed on top.

Relational pedagogy and kindess come from the social justice premise – beneficial for all and necessary for some. Another way to foster this is by having conversations about educational and administrative processes and addressing gaps in understanding. Are there other times in the course to have conversations about how institutional deadlines influence some course deadlines? Are there other phrases that can be welcoming and suggestive that the instructor sees the students as apprentices and eventually colleagues in the field? That’s the mindset that crept up on me when I decided that my postsecondary teaching should be helping students to excel beyond my current expertise.

Why we do education or what education is for me has always been to support the evolution of our humanity to support students in developing the capacities to contribute to the world in ways that affirm relationships of love and compassion and solidarity…we don’t just learn how to do relationships. Antonia Darder (2022)

(McNutt, 2022)

Think about it, wouldn’t you want your current students to be exceptional in their field by the time you’re ready to step away? Perhaps that’s the inching toward relational pedagogy that is possible for those who are on the fence about kindness in relational practice. Seeing students as future colleagues and leaders might just shift how we relate to them and how we plan powerful and empowering teaching and learning experiences.

*Note relational pedagogy is not strictly anthropocentric, but that’s for another conversation.

Inspirations

Clegg S., & Rowland S. (2010). Kindness in pedagogical practice and academic life. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 31(6), 719–735. https://doi.org/10.1080/01425692.2010.515102

Denial, C. J. (2024). A pedagogy of kindness. University of Oklahoma Press.

Felten, P., & Lambert, L. M. (2020). Relationship-rich education: How human connections drive success in college. Jhu Press.

McNutt, C. (Host). (2022, October 22). A pedagogy of love w/ Antonia Darder (No. 120) [Audio podcast episode}. In Human Restoration Project. https://www.humanrestorationproject.org/podcasts/120-a-pedagogy-of-love-w-antonia-darder

On the promise of the new academic year

As students get ready to begin the academic year and return to post-secondary, or begin a new program, I imagine there’s some questioning around “is this the right choice for me” and “this is definitely the right choice for me” in light of the options that are not post-secondary. For me, even when it was the expected path after secondary school, the question of “is this the right major for me?” was my internal musing about the right choice. 

Now, in the last weeks of August, while I appreciate the quieter corridors during the summer weeks, I look forward to the first week of September. I have an unparalleled vicarious enjoyment of the first week of the semester and the buzz of students trying to find their way, figuring out the weeks and months ahead. That buzz is a reminder of the promise and hope of what it means to be in post-secondary schooling and the possibilities this type of educational experience can offer.

There is no competing with other types of educational experiences, be they the learning done through life, or intentional pursuits of other kinds of development, such as learning on the job. Post-secondary can be a bubble, a temporary insulation, or conversely, a mirror of the other challenging educational experiences. 

Side thought: One of my favourite authors, Erna Brodber, uses the metaphor of the kumbla in the novel Jane and Lousia will Soon Come Home. The kumbla is the protection and insulation of family, with strict regulations enforced on girl children to ensure that they are prepared to handle life on the outside of the cocoon. But if one stays in the kumbla too long, growth can be stunted and the child becomes weak and ill-equipped to survive outside of the bubble. I think the kumbla concept can tell us something about post-secondary too.

Educators can choose to curate distinctive educational experiences that are meaningful and enriching. While there are constraints in the design of post-secondary learning contexts, there are also possibilities! I’m surprised that I still have this excitement for the start of the academic year. It’s different from when I was a child, or a teen, or a young adult, or a new teacher. But the enthusiasm that bubbles up, it’s the one constant that reinvigorates my optimism in the value of what we offer in post-secondary institutions. I don’t know specifically what happened throughout my schooling that continuously reaffirmed my optimism in what happens here, but my excitement has not waned. Maybe it is because I have this unwavering hope captured in Maxine Greene’s words:

In many respects, teaching and learning are matters of breaking through barriers—of expectation, of boredom, of predefinition. To teach, at least in one dimension, is to provide persons with the knacks and know-how they need in order to teach themselves.

(Greene, 1995, p. 14)

Where do I come in, in the lives that pass through these corridors, maybe with whispered hopes and dreams for a self that will be different by graduation? I’m committed to working with educators as they curate these distinctive educational experiences for their students, with possibilities upon possibilities for being, becoming, and blossoming.

Inspirations

  • Brodber, E. (1980). Jane and Louisa will soon come home. New Beacon Books.
  • Greene, M. (1995). Releasing the imagination: Essays on education, the arts, and
    social change
    . Jossey-Bass.