Teaching Behind Bars: From the What to the Why

Stuart Paul Duncan

 

Back in 2007, my academic teaching journey began as a teaching assistant for a diverse array of music-related undergraduate courses at Cornell University, aiding in classes on African Music and the Diaspora, introducing students to technical and composition tools in Digital Music, and guiding students through introductory music theory classes. In 2012, my teaching journey continued at Yale, this time as a part-time acting instructor, with increased responsibilities in shaping music theory-specific classes and evaluating student development over a sequence of multiple theory courses. However, my most transformative experience as a teacher occurred between the two Ivies, when I created and led my own course for incarcerated adult male students at a maximum-security prison in upstate New York in 2010.

At first, I was apprehensive to enter this walled community: an endless series of locked gates connected narrow winding corridors, overlapping one another via endless staircases and generating claustrophobia. And things didn't get any better upon reaching my music appreciation classroom: no computers, no Internet, no cell phones, no projector, and perhaps most importantly, no piano. Four bare walls, a couple of blackboards, and a few rows of chairs in a lecture-style setup were the sum total of this community's physical learning environment. While this environment alone presented something of a transformative experience in reconfiguring my approach to teaching (especially as an alumnus of the technology-enabled classrooms at Cornell), the transformation I experienced was due to the students themselves.

One commonly held misconception of prison life is that incarcerated people have nothing to do all day, and thus prisoners take classes as a way of passing the time, of alleviating their boredom. But, at least for the incarcerated men where I taught, each person worked gruellingly long days by making license plates for the state. In order to take classes, these students had to be in good behavioral standing, and only then could they take part in classes by giving up their lunch breaks. Education was not a given; it had to be earned. My initial concerns prior to the first class were that I might find it hard to motivate these students; however, my fears were unfounded, as these students were voracious learners. While every student had a different educational background — from no secondary education to college degrees — all of them wanted to learn. The biggest difference between my prior experience teaching at Cornell and the prison was that, in addition to wanting to learn, these students wanted to know why they should. It wasn't enough simply to highlight a long-term goal such as "this course will develop a critical ear in listening to music and aid in translating these observations into a written form"; I had to consider why such a goal was worthwhile and how this benefited the student.

This need to ask "why" is a trait that is often associated with adult learning. Across the vast span of scholarly literature on teaching in academia, research generally divides students in two clear groups: traditional college-age students and adult learners. Cari Kenner and Jason Weinerman's 2011 paper, "Adult Learning Theory: Applications to Non-Traditional College Students," is one of many recent papers that refer to M. S. Knowles's 1984 distinction between college-age and adult learners, where the latter:

[...] are self directed, take responsibility for their own actions, and resist having information arbitrarily imposed on them. They have an extensive depth of experience, which serves as a critical component in the foundation of their self-identity. They are ready to learn. As most adult learners return to college voluntarily, they are likely to actively engage in the learning process. They are task motivated. Adult students returning to college attend for a specific goal and the primary component of their motivational drive tends to be internal.³

The need to know why comes from a need to know the value of whatever is being presented, be it an overarching goal, an idea or concept, or even a learning activity: adult learners resist information that has no clear function. And, as they are actively engaged in the learning process, they take on a greater ownership of the information presented. 

As a fellow at the Yale Center for Teaching and Learning and a part-time acting instructor in the Department of Music, pedagogical concepts of backwards design, active learning, and goal-oriented teaching have all played a central role in my approach to teaching. But, the experience of teaching a community of incarcerated adult learners who required me to answer the whys as well as the whats fundamentally changed my approach to education. Asking why encourages us to burst the hermetically sealed bubble that encapsulates a narrowly defined, content-driven approach and embrace a goal-oriented approach that is sensitized not only to wider educational goals appropriate for college-level education, but also to reconceive of our course goals as part of a longer, life-oriented trajectory.

References:
1. See http://cpep.cornell.edu/ for more information on Cornell Universities Prison Education Program
2. See http://www.complex.com/pop-culture/2012/09/the-50-craziest-prisons-and-jails-in-the-world/auburn-correctional-facility
3. Kenner, Cari and Jason Weinerman, "Adult Learning Theory: Applications to Non-Traditional College Students," Journal of College Reading & Learning (College Reading & Learning Association) Spring 2011, Vol. 41(2):88-89