Teaching Diversity Through Ethics
Copyright 2002 by Character Education, Ltd.
This essay originally appeared in Diversity
Exchange Magazine
By Michael Bugeja
“One day, ” said an African-American professor
at a faculty meeting, “I would like my white colleagues to know what it feels
like to be black.” Usually reserved, always gracious, this professor had endured
countless meetings on diversity, partook in myriad seminars on sensitivity,
and overlooked everyday slights, only to realize that everyday slights was
worthy of more debate, at least on this occasion, in academe.
“Just one day,” she repeated. “Then you would know what
it is like.”
No one responded, and the discussion soon moved to less
weighty concerns—office space, budgets, special events—topics that most of
us could debate with customary pettiness and passion.
I made a note to visit my colleague at a future
date when we could chat in private. I had some good news about my media ethics
class because I had designed an exercise to give white students the experience
of being African-American.
I teach diversity through ethics. I do not preach
about or politicize the subject matter. I try to reach students on an
emotional, experiential level rather than on an abstract, philosophical one.
Let me explain.
Telling the truth is a fundamental requirement
in a media ethics class. We don’t wax philosophic about it, citing Immanuel
Kant; we start with attendance. Students may miss as many of my lectures as
they like, as long as they send me an email explaining the real reason for
missing class.
The policy requires students to disclose
information appropriately. (They tell me about medical appointments, not
symptoms.) They also learn about priorities and often experience pangs of
conscience upon informing me that they skipped class to watch soap operas,
for instance.
The Chronicle of Higher Education actually covered
the policy in the May 30, 1997, issue: “Ohio U. Professor Will Take Any Excuse
for Students’ Absences.”
There is method (pedagogy) to the madness. After
more than a quarter century teaching, I know that students merely take notes
and purge if I preach about the importance of honesty. However, doing journal
exercises, students can experience that importance independently and not only
understand the ethics lesson; they also live it.
The challenge is designing an exercise that will
yield consistent results, quarter after quarter.
Case in point: For one week students keep track
of all the lies that they tell others, all the lies that they believe others
have told them, and all the times that they were tempted to lie but told the
truth. In each instance they are asked to predict consequences and then track
actual ones.
Results each term are remarkably similar: Students
underestimate the consequences of their own lies and deal harshly with others
who spread lies. Telling the truth when tempted to lie, they feel ashamed
or afraid in the short term but relieved in the long term.
They sleep at night.
But for one day, just one day, how to make them
feel African-American?
My colleague had been speaking metaphorically.
Some days are more intense than others. Her intent was to communicate to
white colleagues how it feels to be a person of color at certain moments.
Moments of bias—being ignored in stores or stopped in cars or patronized
in committees.
Such incidents happen to us all. They just happen
more frequently to African-Americans than to Caucasians.
This is part of communication theory, which assesses
slices of time. The communication process also is significant, taking into
account such variables as sender and receiver of a message and the circumstances
in which the message is conveyed.
I constructed an exercise meant to evoke emotions
and experiences. Because these can be sensitive and private, students summarize
in journals rather than share their thoughts in class.
Instructions are as follows: “When we communicate
with others, we also anticipate a response that suits the occasion. An ‘occasion’
is a moment in your life, associated with a place, a person, and a time. It
is one thing to discuss bias with a friend on a Tuesday in the
cafeteria; it is another to do so with an adversary at a conference on Martin
Luther King Day.”
Students are asked to recall:
1. An event or situation about which you felt great enthusiasm and the urge
to share that enthusiasm with a significant person, group or authority figure.
2. The sharing of that enthusiasm with that person, group or figure, anticipating
support or approval.
3. The feeling you experienced upon receiving an opposite message—criticism
or rejection—from that person, group or figure.
4. In a phrase or two, explain how the response made you feel.
And, as in the attendance and lying exercises,
responses tend to be similar. Here are selected ones from a recent media
ethics class:
- “You wonder why you made the attempt in the first place.”
- “You feel worthless or stupid.”
- “You think, ‘Why dream? Why care?’”
- “You cut off ties.”
- “You fight. You want to get to the bottom of it.”
Those phrases, of course, describe how it feels
to experience bias. Students are told, “Although you may not be a person of
color, or experience racism every day, you can deal with it effectively as
a journalist by being able to identify with it on this rudimentary level.”
I approached my colleague a week after the faculty meeting
and shared the above exercise with her. She plans to introduce it to her news-writing
students and that, coming from someone I so admire, has made me ponder a
new exercise: Understanding Diversity.
In this new journal assignment, I will ask students
to go through the same process as above, with one variation in Step #3:
“Describe the feeling you experienced upon receiving support and approval
from that person, group or figure.”
To understand that is to celebrate rather than
practice diversity.
If you are interested in how we celebrate diversity
in media ethics class, you can visit this Web site: http://oak.cats.ohiou.edu/~bugeja/diversity.html.
The celebration continues in this issue of Diversity
Exchange of which I am honored to be a part.
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