In what many people consider the glory years of Saturday Night Live, one of the most memorable sketches was “Weekend Update,” which, during the 1977-78 season, featured Jane Curtin and Dan Aykroyd. An especially popular segment was “Point-Counterpoint,” in which Curtin and Aykroyd parodied the stodginess of network news anchors and commentators. At some point every week, however, Aykroyd, totally frustrated with Curtin’s point of view, would intone, “Jane, you ignorant slut.” Curtin remained unperturbed and ended the segment with a smile.
What back then was nothing more than parody has far too often become the norm in today’s on-air social and political commentary. That is true at both ends of the political spectrum, with the likes of Rush Limbaugh and Bill O’Reilly on the right and Keith Olbermann and Bill Maher on the left. Because belligerency is seen as a legitimate form of debate, many college students today cannot separate loudness from logic or histrionic ad hominem arguments from substantive, issue-centered discourse. That seems particularly true in courses that deal with contemporary social issues, politics, and religion. Critical thinking is often drowned out by bombast and bluster.
Faculty members in the humanities are acutely aware of this trend. The two of us were sharing misery stories about the state of classroom life one day and decided to find a way to improve it. Our idea was to team-teach a course, “Religion in American Life and Thought,” with both of us in the classroom for every class meeting. The experiment was approved, and we began preparing for something that had never been done before on our campus: two faculty members teaching in the same classroom every day, both fully compensated as part of our regular teaching loads.
We could not be more different. Mel Seesholtz has a reputation for criticizing the dogma-based sociopolitical agenda of organized religion; Bryan Polk is the chaplain at Abington College. Mel is a James Joyce scholar; Bryan prefers to study Neolithic stone circles in England. Although we both teach English classes, Mel focuses on literature and courses on science, technology, and society; Bryan teaches religious studies and mythology. Mel is a laid-back facilitator of classroom discussions; Bryan is a more formal lecturer. Mel is a vegetarian (heading toward vegan); Bryan is a gourmet cook who enjoys virtually every kind of meat.
Students who knew both of us could not envision the two of us working together, but that did not stop them from signing up for the course. In fact, it may have prompted them to do so. Perhaps they were expecting another point-counterpoint slugfest. What we hoped to deliver, however, was a model of respectful disagreement on a host of sensitive topics.
The first time we taught the course, in fall of 2007, we often entered the classroom with only a vague idea of each other’s thoughts on course topics such as religion and education (with a special focus on the teaching of intelligent design in public-school science classes), religion and social issues (with an emphasis on the gay-rights debate), religion and politics (the forthcoming presidential primaries were in the headlines), and evangelical and fundamentalist Christianity (with an analysis of the 2006 documentary Jesus Camp). Several guest speakers—from representatives of mainstream religions to a Scientologist and a scientist who advocated intelligent design—added another layer of complexity.
Our students reveled in the surprise that registered on our faces when one of us voiced a point of view that was unexpected. For instance, during a class discussion of the debate over the phrase “under God” in the Pledge of Allegiance, Mel suggested that the phrase turned the pledge into a public prayer. Bryan then opined that, for him, the problem was not with the word “God” but with the word “under,” because it privileges faith systems that believe in a masculine, sky, warrior deity. The students immediately picked up the “aha” expression on Mel’s face, and his “I never thought of it that way” restarted the dialogue with a different focus.
In another class, when Mel proposed that organized religion necessarily leads to a dogmatic institution with an agenda of social control, Bryan’s eyebrows went up, and he asked, “Do you really think that?” Mel’s affirmative response coupled with a cogent rationale for his point of view elicited several impassioned responses from students.
That type of ad lib interaction between us became a mainstay of the course. Another instance occurred early on, during a discussion of the origin of the universe. The two of us had never discussed the topic outside of class, so when it came up, we did not know we had such divergent points of view. The students’ response was astounding. As one student put it, “I think I learned the most when you guys would debate back and forth, … like the disagreement you two had over the Big Bang theory.” That was exactly what we’d hoped to accomplish: modeling how to engage in a civil debate with the goal of advancing understanding of another’s point of view, the validity of that viewpoint, and the new perspectives it opens.
Our former associate dean of academic affairs called our team-teaching experiment “brave.” Every day in the classroom together, our pedagogical strengths and weaknesses are exposed. We have learned from each other, and that learning has inspired our students. As one student put it, “You guys learn new things from each other every day, so it is like you are learning with us. And that creates a good atmosphere in class.”
Even after four semesters of team-teaching the course, we continue to learn from each other and with our students. At the end of each semester, we ask them for suggestions for improvements. Based on their recommendations, we have expanded our list of guest speakers to include elders from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, a Young Earth creationist, a secular humanist, and a Christian Scientist. We also engage in unscripted discussions and debates on topics suggested by the students, such as the nature of God and religion, how the founding fathers saw religion interacting with politics, and how contemporary political and religious leaders may have strayed from those founding principles. The content is always new because each semester brings a new group of students with new questions and concerns, along with new developments in the always-evolving relationship between religion and American life.
Students have consistently commented how much they enjoy getting two faculty points of view on virtually every issue, and their in-class contributions to the discussions and their written work show that they can internalize our methodology and model it themselves. In their evaluations, the students wrote variations on this theme: “It’s important that we can see that people with two different opinions can respect each other’s opinion and still get along and work together.”
But our version of team-teaching is expensive. Do its benefits outweigh its costs? Aside from students liking the approach, clearly it has helped them understand how to disagree without becoming inconsiderate, ranting bloviators. Based on student feedback and evaluations, campus administrators have agreed to continue the course for at least another year, and in response to student requests, we are writing a textbook that presents the material in a framework reflecting the modeling goals that inspired the course.
Our classroom has become an arena for the free exchange of ideas in which everyone’s opinion is welcomed and respected. With today’s call to make universities more student-centered, perhaps our version of team-teaching is not that expensive after all.
