Co-teach 4

Co-teach,

It’s been a while since I’ve logged a journal entry on this forum, despite all thought-provoking and inspiring conversations we’ve had after almost every class session. It’s funny how much slower the practice of journaling can be when attempting to capture and articulate one’s thoughts, just by virtue of becoming public knowledge. I know this is an experiment on both our parts, but in real time, it’s tough not to overthink it, so thanks for your patience. I still see the value in capturing instantaneous reflections of our co-teaching experience and reactions to the content with which we engage: still eager to see what comes out of it. But for now, I am trying to get back into this practice as a way to slow down, and actively—through writing—engage the ideas I counter during this process. 

The last few weeks have had us dive deeper into how stories are told through words and visuals: we have looked at how images (captured during protests) might provoke, agitate, or inspire; we also discussed, briefly, the consequences of bringing our own bias (something we can’t really turn off or on, but requires acknowledgement) to the interpretation of said images.  The points you raised about truth and trust as being interdependent are great observations. It makes me think of another way we might define design: the intent (whether good or bad) behind the creation of an outcome—in this case the outcome being the communication of a message. There’s a lot of power and privilege that comes with that responsibility; unfortunately not everyone uses it for good. So, how do we equip our audience members with basic tools to make informed decisions on what they consume? One thing that comes to mind is the invitation of multiple points of view: for example in the context of the images we looked at in class, using frameworks such as the semiotic framework to interrogate images presented in the media and listening to a completely different narrative by someone who was on ground—like Dannie Boyd. In this case, to arrive at truth, I think, is to investigate: to ask questions and seek answers from multiple perspectives. I’m sure there’s more there, but for now, that’s a start. 

On a more recent note, during our excursion to the Old Courthouse, last week, it was refreshing to finally have class on location. Being on site and in situ has a way of forcing you to think about the past and how it relates to what we see in the present—standing on the steps of the courthouse made me think about that complex relationship between the courthouse and Dred Scott, the arch and other surrounding preservation sites. In fact, in some ways I see the dreary weather of that afternoon as a blessing in disguise; I found myself reflecting on a lot of things: thinking about the countless decisions that were made inside and outside the courtroom; the slaves whose freedom and dignity was further stripped away while they were sold from one “master” to another; those whose families were separated in the process; families who were able to fight and take back their freedom; the ones who lost their fight; and those whose stories we might never know. 

Indeed, we could have read about this case, looked at pictures of the sites, discussed and listened to historians and experts unpack these narratives, but nothing beats being onsite and allowing oneself to see, observe, interrogate, and attempt to make sense of what was and still is this story of St. Louis.

Penina