Teaching Philosophy (for undergraduate education)
My mission as an educator is to prepare students for global citizenship in the twenty-first century by ensuring that they (1) know the past, (2) understand how today’s “globalized” society requires us all to develop multicultural competence and be respectful of difference, and (3) comprehend how structures of power and privilege inform all aspects of our daily lives. These considerations drive course content, as well as the one-on-one time I devote to students as they work on individual assignments and carve out their professional and personal places in the world.
The study of nineteenth-century literature and culture provides an exciting launch pad for understanding past, present, and future. I ask my students to think about how literature and culture function to shape and critique the global reach of empire and colonialism, the behavioral influences of rapidly changing technology, and the ethical questions that spur both revolutions and revolutionary movements. My syllabi are crafted to include diverse perspectives via thematic organization that is conscious of chronology, but not tied to strict timelines or regions. A course on the Romantic tradition, for example, includes texts from both canonical and non-canonical authors arranged around topics such as early feminist thought and abolition. When teaching Felicia Hemans’s Records of Woman (1828), I emphasize its place within a larger framework of historical feminist debates about the subjugation of women around the world. I ask students to consider the importance of Hemans’s inclusion of diverse examples, while also pointing out the problematic assumptions that she makes when she attempts to speak for all women across generations and the globe. My students also respond positively to abolition literature such as Olaudah Equiano’s Interesting Narrative (1789) because it is often their entry point into studying abolition as a global movement that began a century before the American Civil War and continues today.
Popular culture is particularly effective in connecting the past to the present because of its accessibility. For example, students typically have a lukewarm response to the first volume of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1818), initially citing its epistolary structure and lofty language as barriers to comprehension. By the time they finish the novel and select nineteenth- and twentieth-century adaptations, students are able to participate in spirited discussions about the roles of women in the narrative(s), racial subtexts, and the consequences of unchecked individualism that has little regard for the collective. Students in my “Reading the Supernatural in Fiction” course responded with similar energy to Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1897), which I teach as an allegory of empire against the backdrop of modernity. By the end of the unit (which included examples of vampires before and after the novel), students were able to have sophisticated discussions about the novel’s engagement with class conflict, xenophobia, and sexuality in its historical context and how these issues continue to inform vampire narratives in the present. We have all grown up with many Frankensteins, Quasimodos, Ebenezer Scrooges, Jekyll/Hydes, and Draculas; studying the novels alongside their adaptations into drama, film, television, graphic novels, video games, and other media allows us to see the full scope of their global and cultural impact while demonstrating the nineteenth century’s continued relevance in the digital age.
Ensuring that students understand how critical concepts in the humanities operate on a larger scale is imperative to the future of the liberal arts. I encourage students to explore how topics and theoretical frameworks covered in class apply to other works via assignments that range from traditional exams and research papers to online discussion forums and project blogs. Ultimately, the true test of students’ grasp of course content lies in their ability to demonstrate how concepts can be applied in other contexts and for different audiences. I accept this challenge in my own teaching and research. My work on adaptations and popular culture is always geared to finding new audiences and applications; in this, my students have made me a better scholar. Through varied assessment methods, students often introduce me to new films, texts, and trends—making the learning process reciprocal and decentering the classroom.
The study of nineteenth-century literature and culture provides an exciting launch pad for understanding past, present, and future. I ask my students to think about how literature and culture function to shape and critique the global reach of empire and colonialism, the behavioral influences of rapidly changing technology, and the ethical questions that spur both revolutions and revolutionary movements. My syllabi are crafted to include diverse perspectives via thematic organization that is conscious of chronology, but not tied to strict timelines or regions. A course on the Romantic tradition, for example, includes texts from both canonical and non-canonical authors arranged around topics such as early feminist thought and abolition. When teaching Felicia Hemans’s Records of Woman (1828), I emphasize its place within a larger framework of historical feminist debates about the subjugation of women around the world. I ask students to consider the importance of Hemans’s inclusion of diverse examples, while also pointing out the problematic assumptions that she makes when she attempts to speak for all women across generations and the globe. My students also respond positively to abolition literature such as Olaudah Equiano’s Interesting Narrative (1789) because it is often their entry point into studying abolition as a global movement that began a century before the American Civil War and continues today.
Popular culture is particularly effective in connecting the past to the present because of its accessibility. For example, students typically have a lukewarm response to the first volume of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1818), initially citing its epistolary structure and lofty language as barriers to comprehension. By the time they finish the novel and select nineteenth- and twentieth-century adaptations, students are able to participate in spirited discussions about the roles of women in the narrative(s), racial subtexts, and the consequences of unchecked individualism that has little regard for the collective. Students in my “Reading the Supernatural in Fiction” course responded with similar energy to Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1897), which I teach as an allegory of empire against the backdrop of modernity. By the end of the unit (which included examples of vampires before and after the novel), students were able to have sophisticated discussions about the novel’s engagement with class conflict, xenophobia, and sexuality in its historical context and how these issues continue to inform vampire narratives in the present. We have all grown up with many Frankensteins, Quasimodos, Ebenezer Scrooges, Jekyll/Hydes, and Draculas; studying the novels alongside their adaptations into drama, film, television, graphic novels, video games, and other media allows us to see the full scope of their global and cultural impact while demonstrating the nineteenth century’s continued relevance in the digital age.
Ensuring that students understand how critical concepts in the humanities operate on a larger scale is imperative to the future of the liberal arts. I encourage students to explore how topics and theoretical frameworks covered in class apply to other works via assignments that range from traditional exams and research papers to online discussion forums and project blogs. Ultimately, the true test of students’ grasp of course content lies in their ability to demonstrate how concepts can be applied in other contexts and for different audiences. I accept this challenge in my own teaching and research. My work on adaptations and popular culture is always geared to finding new audiences and applications; in this, my students have made me a better scholar. Through varied assessment methods, students often introduce me to new films, texts, and trends—making the learning process reciprocal and decentering the classroom.