Statement of Teaching Philosophy

It is no secret that there has been a significant shift in educational policy and practice in the last fifteen or so years toward greater rigidity of standards and test-based evaluations. In the relatively short period between my own graduation from high school and my return to the high school classroom as a long-term substitute teacher, I saw a distinct shift in how students responded to teachers. Students’ anxiety focused on whether something would be on the test, and the history curriculum lost any room to breathe as teachers struggled to create the vague links in students’ minds that would allow them to pass a standardized test: Gandhi means India, and drilling them on the difference between Triangle Trade and the Columbian Exchange. This was a dramatically different experience from my own high school education, and when I began teaching survey classes at a community college, I saw the consequences. My room was full of bright students who had not learned how to think critically and talented students who lacked the writing skills and confidence to express their thoughts on paper. Though this was frustrating both for me and my students, I quickly realized that if I wanted students to express themselves, I had to find ways to get them to interrogate their own ideas. We spent a lot of time talking about what they hated, with me prodding them to tell me why specifically they hated Justin Bieber, with me crafting their responses into essay outlines so they could see the process before we repeated it with questions about why the French people were so angry at Louis XVI.

In undergraduate education, I believe in meeting students where they are. Rather than lamenting their lack of preparation for critical thinking, I emphasize the mechanics of writing thesis statements and essays, and my assessments involve both short and long-form answers. Written work helps students learn to think like historians and use primary source evidence to persuade. This approach allows students to engage with the facts while building their confidence so that they can engage thoughtfully and actively with the historical material. I communicate my passion for history by connecting the material to contemporary issues and culture whenever possible, by asking students to compare historical material to contemporary popular culture pieces on similar topics. Students retain more when they connect new knowledge to what they already know, so modeling this technique is an effective way to encourage them to do the same.

The skills graduate students need to develop are an extension of the tools they used as undergraduates. They need to engage critically with the historical literature, both as individual texts and a collective body, and learn to ask questions of themselves and other scholars about what evidence means and why it exists. These skills include developing interpretive material for museums and sites, writing significance statements for National Register nominations, and how to talk with, and more importantly listen to, community partners. One of the central focuses of my research is how public historians can be better, more effective community partners. I plan to emphasize to students that the work they do as public historians does not take place in a cultural or social vacuum; we have an obligation to be cognizant of the context of our work, just as we are about the context of sources and historical arguments. This means being frank and open with students about current events and getting them involved with community partners early and often.

Building confidence is key. Students who are confident in their skills and abilities are more likely to be open to new approaches and challenges to their ideas. Public history work requires creativity and flexibility, as well as an ability to be a part of a team. While leadership is important, public historians most often function as members of a team. I would encourage students to

Abigail Gautreau

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develop their teamwork skills by assigning them to small groups to complete larger tasks so that they can learn to appreciate each other’s skills. This might mean assigning different groups of students to different sections of a National Register nomination, with some students working on the architectural description while others work on the statement of significance, and finding an effective team leader to be in charge of coordinating and combining the material into the form correctly. Although most students loathe group work, and I was one of them early on, I spent the bulk of my doctoral assistantship and coursework learning to be part of a team, and I think this is a key to what makes me an effective public historian. If students learn early on to stop trying to control more than their share of the process, it makes it easier for them to let community members take charge down the road in their careers. Dividing the work also makes it easier for students to figure out which sorts of positions they might be interested in when they enter the job market. Some students might particularly enjoy the technical work of preservation, and so could look to consulting firms and state historic preservation offices. Others might find that they prefer interpretation and so look for positions in that area. At the end of the day however, most public historians must wear many hats, and so all students need to prepared to do a variety of types of work within the broader field. This breadth of experience and ability to function as a good team member is what makes emerging professionals good candidates on the job market, which is key finding successful placement for new graduates.

Students build confidence through accomplishing challenging goals on real projects; that means that rather than doing practice work, they need to work on projects that application and purpose outside of the classroom. This philosophy applies to both undergraduate and graduate students. The classroom is a safe space for learning, but the product should be oriented toward a public forum, whether its writing or expanding a wikipedia page or writing architectural descriptions for a survey. Failure is a routine part of public history work; projects do not often match up to the original vision, and in some cases, community partnerships can be a real challenge. The sooner students learn this, the easier it is for them to take these setbacks in strike and learn to focus on the important parts of their work: building a relationship with their community partners and finding ways to achieve shared heritage and preservation outcomes using a process that fosters community engagement. I believe that a solid foundation within the classroom sets students up for success when they take on practical internships and later enter the job market.

Abigail Gautreau

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