Being a Leader in the University Classroom During Challenging Times

Good morning, afternoon, or evening, work friends. So much has happened since I last wrote. Can you believe it’s just been a week?

Surprise, surprise: The “challenging times” referenced in the title of this week’s blog post is the aftermath of the 2024 U.S. election cycle.

Over the last week, I've noticed a wide range of responses to the election on social media:

Some have expressed excitement, while others have described despair.

Other people have shared cynical perspectives about who was elected to office bearing no effect on common people—“we’re screwed either way.”

And then there is everyone else in between.

For many instructors, the range of emotions displayed on social media hinted at what we could expect in our classrooms following the election, leaving us to wonder:

What should we do?

Should we broach the election with students?

If so, then how should we do it?

I asked myself these same questions.

Photo by Element5 Digital on Unsplash

I had less than a day to figure out a game plan.

As I sat down to prepare, I read a story from the Baltimore Banner reporting on faculty and students at Towson and Johns Hopkins University who were carrying on “business as usual.”  

Would my students want to do the same?

I wasn't sure—especially after Vice President Harris delivered her concession speech—but I was committed to creating a space to meet them wherever they were on Thursday morning.

This predicament led me to question:

What does it mean to be a leader in the university classroom during challenging times, like a deeply polarized election when half of your students may be rejoicing while the other half are distraught?

For me, being a leader in the classroom required showing up to the moment in the way students wanted and, more importantly, needed me.

It required that I lean into the uncertainty of asking students what was on their minds and adapting to be what they needed at the moment.

It required a willingness to take a risk and give up nearly all the control I had as an instructor.

I knew that I would have to be willing to let students see me pause, think, stumble over my words, and carefully select the words I used to offer responses to their questions.

In short, the moment would require honesty, authenticity, and vulnerability.

In a stroke of luck, I checked my email before sitting down to create a game plan on Wednesday afternoon. At the very top of my email inbox, I found this blog post written by Jennifer Ostojski from the Active Learning in Political Science blog.

I followed Dr. Ostojski’s directions and began my two sections by handing each student an index card.

I told them they should write down whatever thought, feeling, reaction, or question they had about the election.

I clarified that they shouldn’t write their names on their index card.

I explained that I would read each one aloud and that they could discuss it for as much (or as little) time as they wanted.

I had no idea what to expect.

I played music from our class playlist as they wrote. I saw some students staring off into the air.  

After a few minutes passed, I checked in and learned that several were thinking. Their focused gazes were them trying to formulate their questions.

To avoid interrupting their focus, I asked them to signal when they were done so I could collect their cards. I read each one as students finished to give myself some extra time to think.

Their responses covered the full gamut:

Some offered emotional reactions—they described the feelings students had in the moment.

Others had very specific technical questions.

The remaining students reflected on information and shared stories of interactions and conversations they had with friends and family members.

In one of my sections, I passed out index cards so that students could read one another's statements. This way, I was not at the center of the conversation the whole time.

As we went around the room, each of the cards elicited more thoughts, reactions, and questions.

Several times, I noted students saying that they hadn’t considered the perspective that the speaking student had just shared.

This conversation was the prototype you think of when you learn about how to make a difficult conversation generative and productive.

During my second section, I ended up reading the cards myself because some of the handwriting was more challenging, and some of the questions and reactions were a bit more controversial.

Still, the conversation flowed the same way. We listened, reflected, discussed hypotheticals, and had a lively dialogue.

Similar to my first section, I was able to provide context to points being made in the media and offer clarifying information.

I assigned a short reading for the day in case students wanted to operate “business as usual,” but we didn’t get to it in either class meeting.

While some might think that getting behind a day in the course was a problem, I wholeheartedly disagree.

The content I teach is extremely important but so too was it to fully show up to that unpredictable teaching moment.

As classroom leaders, we are charged with conveying information about a topic that we are often experts in. However, we also teach our students soft skills like listening, communication, and respectfully questioning ideas.

For me, showing up to both of these objectives is what it means to be a leader in the university classroom.

Having said that, I completely understand why some faculty members may have shied away from such a risky conversation:

They wouldn’t have any control over what was being asked.

Moreover, they would have to think on their feet about how best to respond.

This predicament is why I spend so much time at the beginning of the semester talking to my students about the classroom as a community. It’s also why I assign this article on intellectual humility the first week and return to it frequently to reinforce the importance of curiosity and open-mindedness in the learning environment.

Because I devoted so much energy to this conversation at the beginning of the semester, it didn’t feel as risky to put myself in the front of the class and say, “Ask me anything,” and genuinely be willing to answer.

This week reminded me that I’m willing to take this risk because the classrooms I work to co-create with students are not just spaces with chairs and desks; they are a community.

From the very start of the semester, I talk about the responsibility we each bear in ensuring that we have fruitful class discussions, expand our understanding, etc.

Because I discuss this so much during “normal” times when challenging dynamics arise, I’ve built up capital with my students, and we are more willing to trust one another.

Like you, I have no idea what the next four years will bring. What I am certain about is that I plan to remain a leader in my classroom, helping my students develop muscles for intellectual humility, curiosity, and good communication.

While I have no idea what this work will demand of me, I know that everything I’ve done well, I’ve done in community with others. For this reason, I’ve decided to create a private online community for like-minded educators who are scrappy and plan to be creative as they navigate our new normal. I plan to host live “watercooler conversation” events where we can discuss and begin to problem-solve around the various issues that come up when trying to maintain inclusive classroom communities and lead difficult discussions over the next several weeks, months, and years.

If you’d like to join, upgrade to my new annual “inner work circle” paid subscriber plan, and you will receive a link to join the Facebook group. Whether you join the community or not, I plan to continue offering weekly posts directly to your inbox for free subscribers.

Until next week (if not sooner),

Brielle aka Your Cooperative Colleague