Cyclical Truth, Linear Truth, Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off

“Here,” Douglas Hesse states, “is the splendid paradox of postmodern theory invoked in the name of critical pedagogy. On the one hand critical theorists challenge the existence of foundational truths, denying as natural the imperative to ‘do’ anything. And I agree. Yet on the other they must invoke, seemingly as foundational, the value of critical exchange” (230). And herein lies the point of Hesse’s argument: what is “proper,” anyway? Pardon my lame cheekiness, but I deliberately started this response with a quote to prove this point. What, starting a paragraph with a quote? Starting a paper with a quote? Where did I learn to write, anyway?

(The answer to this, of course, is that I didn’t really learn to write, since I grew up in California and much of what we associate with learning to write just doesn’t get taught. You know how I learned English grammar? I learned Spanish. I exaggerate only slightly.)

When I began reading the article, I assumed that the author would be addressing the oft-encountered oppositional decoding pattern exhibited by students in college composition courses. It seemed that Hesse was arguing for greater empathy and, even, compassion on the part of composition instructors, since instructors sometimes lose sight of just how new and challenging college reading material can be. However, by the end of the article, I was left wondering what Hesse’s argument was—that is, what was he trying to get us to think? By saying, more or less, that a critical pedagogy-based approach to teaching largely destroys the notion of an absolute anything—that some things are, by their nature, essential to human knowledge—then Hesse allows the reader to ignore what he’s saying.

Again, I exaggerate slightly. At the end of the article, Hesse does indicate that he believes there are exceptions to this idea, that a person who teaches chemistry, say, is responsible for knowing chemistry. To me, though, his concession comes as too little too late. After spending several pages discussing why undergraduate students and graduate students—and, as is the implication, everyone—need to understand that their perception is limited by their lack of experience, that they can’t judge texts as well as someone with more experience (something which creates a “foundation” upon which to base an opinion), he then talks about how educational foundations are, on the whole, unreliable, until his aforementioned concession. Thus, the concession feels gimmicky to me, as if he knows that he’s already shot himself in the foot, but he wants to soldier on.

This is too bad, because there is truth in what he says, truth that we’ve seen ever since Shakespeare in the Bush became widespread in anthropology circles. Interpreting a text is a matter of discourse community membership, of one’s past experience, of one’s lack of experience, etc. Resistance to a newly introduced text is a result of all these, sure, so I understand why Hesse broached the topic. He opened up a can of worms, though, and instead I would’ve liked to have seen a discussion of creating a classroom environment that’s conducive to helping students accept new ideas. (He did this somewhat when he talked about comparing his graduate students, albeit without malice, to freshmen.) (Note: When trying to get students to accept a new text, I certainly wouldn’t recommend comparing them to freshmen, unless they are freshmen, and even that’s a little risky.)