Amber D. Spry has come up with a prompt that’s well-balanced — and that helps set the tone for class discussions in her political-science courses, too.
The question: How does your family or your culture cook rice? Spry calls it the #ricebreaker.
Spry, an assistant professor in the African and African American studies department at Brandeis University, got the idea at a dinner party in New York that gathered friends from many cultural backgrounds. One friend commented on all the ways people prepare the food, a staple across much of the world.
Spry has used the icebreaker during the first week of class for years and recently published an article about it in the Journal of Political Science Education.
The ricebreaker can help put students at ease. It’s an inclusive question, Spry says, one that affirms the value of the cultures students are coming from. It invites, but does not require, students to share something meaningful about where they come from.
While rice is familiar, “everyone’s access point is so different,” Spry says. “Some students grew up boiling rice in a bag, other students grew up cooking jollof rice, or Persian,” and some ate it for breakfast. Saying they didn’t grow up eating rice is a fine response, too, Spry adds, and students can always talk about a different go-to meal.
The exercise is a natural segue into a broader discussion about culture and perceptions, Spry says. That conversation illuminates “how our background influences the way we see the same experience,” she says. And it provides a template for how to have a respectful class discussion when that’s the case.
Reminding students that their perspectives are steeped in their backgrounds might be especially needed in political science, which has grown fraught to teach in a polarized country. But the activity can help lay the ground for respectful discussions in a variety of settings, Spry says, and she knows of professors and some high-school teachers who’ve adapted it, too.
Outside-the-Office Hours
After I shared a viral tweet about reframing office hours, I got an email from Eric Hastie, a teaching assistant professor of biology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, describing his own unconventional approach.
“I made my office hours communal for all three of my classes — partly for my own sanity with 800 students,” he wrote. Those office hours are held in a courtyard, and Hastie crochets during them, something he does to support his own mental health, he says, and that he’s found also makes him more approachable to students. “I’m calling it crochet in the courtyard, ha!”
The approach has exceeded Hastie’s expectations, he says, because of the way students in different graduating classes interact. “The older students offer life and school advice,” he says. “They sometimes answer questions about course content too! I sit there and crochet and occasionally have to add something here or there for clarification. Now we have a little group that comes each time, and others come and go.”
Your Semester, So Far
As we’ve mentioned the past couple of weeks, Beth and I wonder if the widespread challenges to attendance and participation we heard so much about last spring have continued, or if things are looking up on that front. It’s not too late to share your observations! Write to us at beckie.supiano@chronicle.com or beth.mcmurtrie@chronicle.com, and your example may appear in a future newsletter.
Thanks for reading Teaching. If you have suggestions or ideas, please feel free to email us at beckie.supiano@chronicle.com or beth.mcmurtrie@chronicle.com.
— Beckie
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