Saturday, March 3, 2018

Equal Access to Empowerment, as explained by Donnatella Moss


It's a been while. There's been some struggle, or maybe: there's been some gelling.  The trouble is not the teaching - in fact, the Introduction to Interdisciplinary Studies course, IS200, is going well. Ten out of eleven students, not all of them majors, either are on board with the basic ideas of interdisciplinarity, or they are in the process of getting on board. The first six chapters of the text book have been plowed through; internships have commenced, book reports have been delivered. Ten students are taking a new look at their past course work and experience, and they are building bridges toward a future that is beginning to make sense to them. (The lone hold-out, a baseball player in season, could not care less, and we’ll just have to let him do his thing for now.)

I have been doing some more research into the interdisciplinary programs colleges and universities offer in our three-state area (NC, SC, GA) – I am supposed to head out there and learn from others how to make our program better, and of course I am curious. What I see is this: institutions tend to fall into one of two camps. 

They either cater to the top students, those who are on an individualized path to graduation, who have a pretty clear vision of what they will do with their combined fields, and who are poised to pursue this vision. 

Or they cater to the stragglers. Those are students who, for whatever reason (for several of mine it’s anatomy class), aren’t succeeding in their original major and are making a last-minute turn toward something more attainable. Or they are students who have been bouncing between fields, looking for something that made sense to them – and are now tallying up their coursework to satisfy their institution’s graduation requirements.

No college or university interdisciplinary studies program that I can see does both. It’s either “top potential” or “delivering hope.” One or the other. When you talk to marketing or administration, you hear that it's difficult to convey such a directional split. It can't be both.

The West Wing’s hero Donnatella Moss (herself a non-graduate of multiple majors, including French literature and biology), asks a good question: “Why can’t it be both?” (In her case, a presidential campaign and a place for a college drop-out to find herself – and boy, does she pull them off!)

 From the get-go, I set out to design a program at Coker that was different from others, a program that could, through careful design of courses and fairly flexible but still rigorous requirements, engage both types of students. I think Donna is right: we can – and should – be both. 



Any educational effort should deliver unlimited opportunity and excellence to all those who show interest, regardless of past experience (and GPA) and future ambition. Education needs to empower, and it needs to empower all its participants. An interdisciplinary program that unites students from both ends of the academic spectrum, embracing diversity not only of subjects, passions, and fields of study, but also of educational history and ambitions, is enriched by everyone’s presence, insights, and contributions. 

I want to hear from the student who is passionate about the math of baseball statistics, and I want to hear from the student who has just read the first chapter of a book about sports and psychology and reports “It is really hard, but I want to read more – I am interested.” I want them, actually, to listen to each other - it's a feature. And I want to work with the student who is confident about organizing children’s programs for the YMCA and the one who is still struggling to explain the ways graphic design visually communicates ideas. 

In the space of mutual interest and respect, the artificial judgment of the GPA tends to fall away, and the class is united in a moment of interest in learning. Let’s value that, and let’s make it an explicit tenet of interdisciplinarity at Coker. Because we are humble (and ambitious!) enough to do both.

It worked for Donna.