The Sociological Imagination

Teaching a sociology class can be an opportunity for a lot of reflection, both for educators and students. For students, it is often the first time that they have looked at themselves as personalities molded and created by social forces and external expectations. There are myriad norms in school that provide raw material for thought and experimentation.

For an educator, it is an opportunity to use what C. Wright Mills called "The Sociological Imagination" to reflect on how the close-up world of classrooms and school are related to the more remote social patterns that are connected so closely to the day-to-day struggles of period 1.

This is the model class to ask questions such as, "Why is history so stressed in education, but the social sciences are given short shrift?" Most are electives, if you are lucky. "Why has reading become so important in US politics, but the content of reading once you learn it is out of sight, out of mind?" There are no Colorado standards for Sociology. No national testing of student knowledge of culture, group dynamics, social mobility, social status and class, social movements, ethnic and race-based bias, criminal behavior, aging and agism, and . . . this is but a short list of Sociology content. I have yet to hear Bill O'Reilly railing against student ignorance of basic research methods, reasoning, and understanding the basic processes of social control. He would rather focus on the tawdry isolated pedophile wrapped in simulated indignation. Where is the outcry?

Well, I have to admit I'm somewhat thankful that there are no committee- and bureaucracy-generated standards. I'm glad there is no Colorado Sociology Assessment. And I'm ecstatic that there is no generalized, watered-down curriculum that must be taught come hell or Katrina.

All this has nothing to do with avoiding accountability. On the contrary, I am more accountable for what these students learn, simply because there is no pre-fabricated education jargon and state curriculum guide that I can fall back on or blame. It is all me. A professional with the opportunity and responsibility of actually educating students in a subject. My supervisors and school administrators hold me accountable, and they know more about these students, my work, and our mutual expectations than any governor.

Let the real learning begin!

The First Week

Like an airplane sitting on the end of the runway, the first week is a series of check-ins and procedures. I always try my best to begin the first day with content. It is important for me to send the message that the learning is what is most important, not the rule following and procedural classroom management issues. I know this flies in the face of a majority of advice, opinion and practice out there, but it seems to be effective for me.

The beginning content, in my view, is the equivalent of the engines being ready for takeoff. No stalls. Next we can do the procedural check and make sure all are on board, the flaps work, all the lights that are supposed to be flashing are doing so, and that the class understands that they are in the role of the co-pilot and have half of the responsibility for the class and where it goes.

Then, it's time to get to know the passengers, and, for them to get to know each other. Within the first week I've already learned about recent family deaths, summer surgeries, past abuse, who have siblings and who are only children. The stories that will play out for the rest of the year have started to be told, and those narratives, the life stories, are some of the raw material that I will use to teach and reflect on history and what we know about ourselves.

Getting ready for the second week is speeding down the runway. And already my desk is buried in paper and grading. There just aren't any flight attendents to help out.