I am a Bible-studies professor, teaching in Springfield, Mo., so one might expect that the last subject I would want to tackle in the classroom is abortion. Many professors avoid it—not because the topic isn’t relevant, or central to how many people here in the Midwest understand biblically based Christianity, but because it is just too scary. A discussion about abortion would very likely divide the class into polar opposites, with each side never listening to the other. So what’s the point? What can be gained?
Professors, whether they teach at a flagship research university, a community college, or a small, private, liberal-arts college like mine, have a responsibility to confront the most complex, difficult, and divisive issues. According to recent statistics from the Guttmacher Institute, a research and advocacy group in reproductive health, one-third of the women in America have had or will have an abortion. One in three. The likelihood that any male or female students in your classes will at some point in their reproductive years deal directly with the issue of abortion is about as high as that of their having a cellphone. The reality is that abortion and other emotionally fraught issues are bound to come up, so we need to be prepared. You may be thinking, “As a chemistry professor,” or “As an English professor, I’m not prepared to take on such an issue.” Yet, as we know, we cannot always foresee or control the ways in which our classroom conversations evolve.
Because of the discomfort and lack of confidence among those of us who discuss abortion (whether strategically or impromptu), I applied for a grant in 2008 to develop some guidelines. The grant, from the Wabash Center for Teaching and Learning in Theology and Religion, allowed me, over the next year or so, to explore pedagogical strategies for teaching difficult subjects.
I began by assembling a working group of 12 of my faculty colleagues, opening the group to anyone who had discussed, or was willing to discuss, abortion in class. They included ethicists, historians, global-studies professors, anthropologists, a genetics professor, and of course, my philosophy and religious-studies colleagues. Both pro-choice and pro-life people participated, but the clear majority identified themselves as the former. Gathering people from throughout the university with a broad range of perspectives was a crucial first step as I sought to reflect the various experiences and attitudes that one might face in the classroom.
We tried to discuss our project with representatives of local and national pro-life organizations, which proved difficult. I wanted to gather as much information as possible, to hear all points of view, and, perhaps, identify some local representatives who could come into the classroom. But they were, in general, reluctant to speak to us; I suspect they mistrusted academics. We were able to alleviate some of that by explaining the purpose of our project and introducing the members of our group. One-on-one conversations are the best approach when possible. The pervasive mistrust, however, may prove problematic for many academics who seek out pro-life representatives for their classrooms.
We also met with pro-choice and pro-life activists in Washington, as well as with abortion providers from all over the country, again trying to hear as many and varied perspectives as possible. Through those meetings, we were able to learn more about the complexities of people’s feelings about abortion—nuances that are often lost in bumper-sticker debates.
Back in the classroom, we worked through the difficulties of past discussions on the subject. We also talked about our successes—what tends to work, what moves us forward when we become mired down—and identified ways that we might avoid getting stuck. We developed a list of five basic guidelines that can lead to productive conversations about abortion or any other difficult discussion:
- Be sensitive and understanding. Recognize that students’ viewpoints will probably be more personal than academic, and that their responses and emotions may be complicated. Instructors, too, will probably approach the topic with preconceived notions, often emotionally complex as well. While that cannot be completely avoided, one should be aware of one’s own biases and make every effort to be neutral and fair.
- “Virtue language” is most effective in keeping a difficult conversation going. Try to use words like “courage,” “wisdom,” “self-control,” “generosity,” “sensitivity,” and “compassion,” and avoid using words like “right,” “wrong,” “good,” and “bad.” Instead of asking, “Was she right to continue (or terminate) her pregnancy?,” ask, “Was she courageous in making that choice?,” thus creating potential for agreement rather than divisiveness and polarization.
- When possible, use stories of actual, rather than hypothetical, situations. Having difficult conversations requires trust and honesty, and hypothetical situations can be counterproductive by making students feel skeptical or manipulated.
- Students are more comfortable talking about difficult topics like abortion when the discussion concerns “others"—for example, in the case of abortion, women in nonindustrialized countries or historical figures. Start there and bring the conversation closer to the students’ own demographic in increments.
- Early in the course, bring in guest speakers who will represent a range of views. Otherwise, students may fear having to be the first to do so, and doubt their ability to articulate their positions effectively.
We developed our strategies with undergraduates in mind, and thus far, the feedback has been positive. The students seem particularly comfortable with the “virtue” language and are less polarized about abortion than we expected. Rather, they are for the most part deeply ambivalent, and better able to understand and appreciate the actions, thoughts, and feelings of those who may or may not choose to have or provide abortions. The students don’t have to make moral judgments.
They also like hearing the personal stories of women—on film, in books, from in-class speakers—that make abortion more real to them instead of just an intellectual exercise. I find, particularly in this age of the virtual, that students are looking for the real.
One of the fundamental characteristics of the liberal arts is the exploration of ethical gray areas. As professors, we must try to bridge the binary opposites of right and wrong, good and evil, and teach our students that life often forces us to make gravely troublesome decisions. Life isn’t simple. That assumption alone—that ambiguity and complexity can exist in abortion decisions—is in opposition to ideologues who see the issue in black-and-white terms. Such divisions should be discussed and reconciled through education.
The goal is not to discover a right side or wrong side. Rather, it is to approach the issue with the same intellectual rigor, passion, and reason that we bring to any condition of the human experience.
