Something tells me that the rhetorical skills of our youth may not, ummm, shine the way we would hope.
Yesterday, we held the third Model United Nations meeting of the year. Along with simply gaining familiarity with parliamentary procedure, we want to give students practice speaking in public. Specifically, we give them opportunities to practice debate. The topic? The success of the school's relatively baby Honor Council in educating the student body on issues of integrity (I confess, I am one of the staff advisors and feel absurdly protective of Council members. However, I entered the meeting looking forward to a spirited debate on how best to cultivate integrity. I even expectd to get some good ideas about how to move forward.).
Predictably, the Council's president approached the podium first, in support of the organization. With a quiet, nervous calm, he laid out the number of cases the Council has seen so far, followed by an explanation of the educational events the Council has planned. He ended by soliciting suggestions for how he could do a better job. He may have lacked fire on the surface, but his humility and sincere desire to change the community compensated (In my previously acknowledged-to-be-biased opinion).
Then....the whole debate unraveled. Two students stood to speak against the Council. The entire argument of the first speaker ran thus: "The Council has not succeeded in its goal of educating the public, because it has not educated. Education is a good goal. But if the Council wants to educate, then it should educate, because education is good. Actually, education is very important. Yes, education is important and the Honor Council has failed to educate. It should work to succeed, so that it can educate." You get the picture.
The second speaker then rose, and meandered around for a couple minutes before reaching his point: "Even members of the Honor Council cheat, so what's the point of even having a Council." Now that caught my attention. Cheating? How dare they! When he finished speaking, I asked him where he had obtained his information. He replied that once, he had witnessed a Council member cheating. When challenged on it, the Council member said, "Oh, it's okay, I won't get into trouble, I'm on the Council." Little stars of fury began bursting behind my eyes. I foresaw the entire endeavor and the work of several months spiraling down in inglorious shame flames.
Tempers on both sides rose from there, until about ten minutes later, when the second speaker revealed that he had made up his story "in the spirit of debate" #*^$*@&#?!???
Taking a deep breath to halt the Big Bang going off in my head, I stood and said, "Making up information is not in the spirit of debate." I went on to add that I would not take students to external conferences if they insisted on inventing information.
This brings me, finally, to my point: We have forgotten how to argue. I love a heated, passionate debate. I'm not afraid of intensity in argument. I'm certainly not afraid of disagreement, if the discussion is about the pursuit of truth. I am terrified, however, of a world in which we care so little for our ideas that we would fabricate false support to win a moment of debate. Orwell's essay "Politics and the English Language" eloquently demonstrates the hollow result of this language with no meaning.
My own endless pedagogical battle is to persuade students that to argue, we must know. By far, the most common comment that I scribble in the margins of essays is, "evidence?" I keep asking myself what will make students want to find support for their assertions? Better still, what will make them wait to form an opinion until they know something about a topic? The answers lie tangled up with awakening students to the questions they may not even know they have burning around in them somewhere. I must make them curious enough to want answers, and critical enough not to accept false answers. Then, if I can teach students how to winsomely share the answers they have honestly uncovered, I will have become an educator.
And that's good, because education is good.
Yesterday, we held the third Model United Nations meeting of the year. Along with simply gaining familiarity with parliamentary procedure, we want to give students practice speaking in public. Specifically, we give them opportunities to practice debate. The topic? The success of the school's relatively baby Honor Council in educating the student body on issues of integrity (I confess, I am one of the staff advisors and feel absurdly protective of Council members. However, I entered the meeting looking forward to a spirited debate on how best to cultivate integrity. I even expectd to get some good ideas about how to move forward.).
Predictably, the Council's president approached the podium first, in support of the organization. With a quiet, nervous calm, he laid out the number of cases the Council has seen so far, followed by an explanation of the educational events the Council has planned. He ended by soliciting suggestions for how he could do a better job. He may have lacked fire on the surface, but his humility and sincere desire to change the community compensated (In my previously acknowledged-to-be-biased opinion).
Then....the whole debate unraveled. Two students stood to speak against the Council. The entire argument of the first speaker ran thus: "The Council has not succeeded in its goal of educating the public, because it has not educated. Education is a good goal. But if the Council wants to educate, then it should educate, because education is good. Actually, education is very important. Yes, education is important and the Honor Council has failed to educate. It should work to succeed, so that it can educate." You get the picture.
The second speaker then rose, and meandered around for a couple minutes before reaching his point: "Even members of the Honor Council cheat, so what's the point of even having a Council." Now that caught my attention. Cheating? How dare they! When he finished speaking, I asked him where he had obtained his information. He replied that once, he had witnessed a Council member cheating. When challenged on it, the Council member said, "Oh, it's okay, I won't get into trouble, I'm on the Council." Little stars of fury began bursting behind my eyes. I foresaw the entire endeavor and the work of several months spiraling down in inglorious shame flames.
Tempers on both sides rose from there, until about ten minutes later, when the second speaker revealed that he had made up his story "in the spirit of debate" #*^$*@&#?!???
Taking a deep breath to halt the Big Bang going off in my head, I stood and said, "Making up information is not in the spirit of debate." I went on to add that I would not take students to external conferences if they insisted on inventing information.
This brings me, finally, to my point: We have forgotten how to argue. I love a heated, passionate debate. I'm not afraid of intensity in argument. I'm certainly not afraid of disagreement, if the discussion is about the pursuit of truth. I am terrified, however, of a world in which we care so little for our ideas that we would fabricate false support to win a moment of debate. Orwell's essay "Politics and the English Language" eloquently demonstrates the hollow result of this language with no meaning.
My own endless pedagogical battle is to persuade students that to argue, we must know. By far, the most common comment that I scribble in the margins of essays is, "evidence?" I keep asking myself what will make students want to find support for their assertions? Better still, what will make them wait to form an opinion until they know something about a topic? The answers lie tangled up with awakening students to the questions they may not even know they have burning around in them somewhere. I must make them curious enough to want answers, and critical enough not to accept false answers. Then, if I can teach students how to winsomely share the answers they have honestly uncovered, I will have become an educator.
And that's good, because education is good.
5 Comments:
amy, i have to disagree with you here, because you're wrong. and being wrong is bad, which is just wrong.
now that that's settled, i'm glad you're blogging again.
made me smile.
and thanks--i've missed writing.
This comment has been removed by the author.
Wow. How appropriate this whole idea of forgetting how to debate is to American politics now. Such factions. Such extreme lines. Heels dug in. Minds made up. No room for considering one another's ideas on either side of the fence. Whatever "side" you are on, you use statistics and information for your own benefit..not to find the truth. And when you ask most people, why do you think this way about such and such...there is no depth to the answer...just words reiterated as if everyone is reading from the same teleprompter.
Emma came home from school the other day and asked me if Obama was the anti-christ (no teacher taught this...just students talking...or repeating, most likely parents ideas)...so I said, Emma, first of all, what is the anti-christ anyway? I mean scripturally what does this title mean? Of course, she didn't really know (do I really know and understand this completely?)
Then I asked, why would you think he is the anti-christ? "Well, because of his positions on stuff." "What stuff?" Well healthcare and stuff. What's his position on heathcare? "I don't know." "Also, he is a socialist" "What is socialism Emma?""I don't really know." "Well, shouldn't you know before you decide whether or not Obama is a socialist." Etc. Etc.
Finding the truth in the midst of glib answers , in such a climate, sometimes feels impossible. And then once you determine how you think about something - based on what you hope is factual information - try discussing it with someone else who disagrees. Very tough to find people willing to discuss/debate with respect, a willingness to consider other opinions...etc.
Its tiresome. And worrisome. And frustrating!
Obama the antichrist?! Where would that possibly come from?! I share your frustrations...You have to love a good hearty argument in which both sides make solid arguments. I love John Stuart Mill most, on the subject of how to argue with knowledge and grace. It's a dying art.
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