Teaching at a community college in a “blue” state I have been fortunate to be part of a positive and affirming response to diversity, equity, and inclusion (“DEI”) initiatives, which have ramped up significantly since the murder of George Floyd in May 2020. Prior to the Pandemic our college had a growing Gender Equity Initiative, which has now been merged into our larger DEI projects. As we have been constantly brainstorming how best to engage our college community in DEI conversations, we decided to start this calendar year with a simple program: a film and discussion.   For anyone seeking to expand DEI initiatives at their college I strongly recommend reaching out to existing institutions in your geographic area for collaborative efforts. In the case of my college, we reinvigorated a pre-Pandemic partnership with the largest historical society in our area to share resources. We recently held our first joint event: the showing of Warrior Women With Lupita Nyong'o, a Smithsonian Institution-produced documentary that examines the history of the women portrayed by the Marvel “Black Panther” films. Many historical societies have relationships with the Smithsonian that enable the sharing of film resources for public history events. We hoped that by choosing a documentary connected closely with a successful feature film franchise we would attract students to a DEI event without even having to explain our true mission: to explore and discuss issues of race, history and identity.   We were thrilled with the response! Our college marketing department advertised our free event to students, faculty and staff, while the historical society publicized the event to their members through email and social media. The result was that on a gloomy Thursday evening just before the start of Spring Break we had fifty people in a small auditorium on our campus to watch the film and share in discussion. It’s not an overstatement to say that our discussion was better than even we had imagined it could be. A breakdown of the audience told us that we had approximately 15 students joined by numerous staff and faculty, as well as several members of the general public who had come as a result of the historical society’s publicity efforts.    The best part: not a single person left the room before the discussion ended. We had two faculty (English and History) lead the post-film discussion alongside a staff member who is also a student at the college. The audience required almost no prompting for discussion – we were treated to nearly thirty minutes of people sharing observations on the history of western Africa and the female warriors studied by the film, in addition to the telling of personal anecdotes about individual audience members’ cultures and heritage.   Response to our event has prompted us to plan a series of DEI-related films with the historical society in hopes of continuing conversations on campus and in our community. By partnering our institutions, we are able to benefit from shared resources such as their access to films and our public viewing space. Several students told me after the film that they felt a deeper connection to both the college and the community at large after participating in such a deep discussion with strangers about their personal connections to race and identity. What I personally learned from this experience is that DEI initiatives do not need to reinvent the wheel to be meaningful.  ... View more

Watch this short video and see how Achieve's built-in map quizzing tool can benefit your history course Achieve is a fully mobile, accessible, flexible system to help you deploy and manage all your tools for pre-class learning, in-class engagement, and post-class assessment—(and integrate it within your LMS if preferred), while gathering insights on student comprehension and engagement—all in a single simple and powerful interface.   ... View more

One of the challenges of teaching at a community college is that faculty are sometimes called upon to teach outside of our areas of expertise.    Case in point: my graduate studies focused on US social history and foreign policy. When I was hired in 2007 the United States was deeply engaged in the war in Afghanistan. Our large population of student-veterans sought to contextualize their understanding of experiences in the Middle East by signing up for a course I taught called “America’s Experience in Vietnam.” Over the years since, contemporary students' interests pivoted towards domestic politics, leading enrollment in the Vietnam course to decline and the number of students wanting to take Black History to increase exponentially. Being one of only two full-time Americanists at my college meant that I needed to put myself back into student mode. I read and studied as much as I could to prepare myself to offer one section of Black History to supplement the existing offerings by my colleague. And then, just like that, he retired and handed me the reins to the course. I now teach two sections of Black History every semester and can honestly say I learn something new with every iteration of the course.   Now in my sixteenth year at a community college I find myself facing a new preparation: Modern Latin America. Many, many years ago as a graduate student I studied Latin America as a field to supplement my work in US diplomatic history. As our community college’s population sees a steady increase in the number of students with familial origins in Latin American nations, the college seeks ways to respond to the needs of these students as they navigate their education. Many students are the first in their families to attend college and while they are native to the United States, their family histories lie in nations about which the students know very little. Hence, our efforts to diversify the curriculum now include a course in Modern Latin America.    So, I’m headed back to student mode to review content that I studied in graduate school and while this task is somewhat daunting, it’s also quite invigorating. Learning (or re-learning) material for a new class is a great way to prevent oneself from falling into an intellectual rut. For those of us with heavy teaching loads it’s easy to find ourselves lecturing from memory. There are topics that I truly believe I could cover in my sleep … and this acknowledgement worries me. The last thing I want to do is bore my 8:30am students into a morning nap because of a lack of enthusiasm on my part. By volunteering to teach Modern Latin America I am not only forging a new connection with students whose heritage is not widely addressed in our current curriculum, but I’m forcing my brain out of its comfort zone.    This experience, however, is not without some major trepidation. If I’m being completely honest, my greatest fear is proper pronunciation of terms and names. Many of my students will be native Spanish and Portuguese speakers. I cringe when I think of what my Boston accent will sound like mispronouncing terminology that is central to the course content. I will be relying heavily on friends in the Foreign Language Department to help me prepare for lectures and discussion. I intend to call upon the students’ good natures for mercy in this area as well – the first day of class will include an acknowledgement of my language-related short-comings in hopes that they will forgive my choppy pronunciations. I’m hopeful that the Spanish I studied in my earlier years as a student will start to come back to me the more familiar I become with material. Wish me luck!  ... View more

It feels as though every few weeks we educators in the United States are forced to reckon with an atrociously violent incident that is not only upsetting on a human level, but also has historical precedent with which we have to grapple as we seek some kind of meaningful discourse with our students.    This week I’m struggling with how best to address questions about the Tyre Nichols’s case. It’s fair to say that most of us have officially tired of the “thoughts and prayers” response to the seemingly never-ending horrors of gun violence, police brutality, and inadequate care for the mentally ill. We feel increasingly helpless as we have no concrete solutions to offer as we discuss these topics with our students. Do we focus the discussion on race? On police brutality? On the reality of how indistinguishable the two topics have become in the 21st century?   This most recent tragedy comes as educators in some parts of the country are being forced to mold their curriculums to the whims of politicians with no background in education, history, or any other content-area in which they seek to impose their political viewpoints. This week the College Board announced changes to its Advanced Placement African American Studies curriculum (see New York Times, 1 February 2023) seemingly in response to politicians in states where so-called “conservative” voices are working to erode the progress that has been made educating young people on race, gender, economics and history over the last thirty or so years. I write "so-called conservatives" because I personally do not believe that the delivery of historical content in a classroom needs to be either liberal or conservative. Historians share with all human beings the dilemma of personal bias. The best historians seek to find the truth in the evidence and help their students to uncover meaning and context.   It’s easy for me to deliver an inclusive curriculum in “blue” New England while colleagues in other parts of the country are increasingly being censored. I can’t help but feel, however, that we as a profession need to collectively do more.    What, then, is that “more”? What do our colleagues need from us in these curriculum content-battleground states?    I would love to hear from educators facing politically motivated content restrictions to their teaching. How are you addressing such issues with your students? What resources can we in other states offer to support you through these enormous challenges? Please share. ... View more

As the semester and calendar year draw to an end it’s a good time to reflect on the obstacles faced this academic year thus far and our hopes for the spring semester.    I’ll start with some not-so-fun observations: students are still struggling to reacclimate to in-person learning. In online educational forums there has been a lot of discussion about “learning loss.” For my community college students, the biggest disconnect has been deadlines, as in they don’t want them! During the pandemic pivot to all online learning our college faculty loosened deadlines and increased flexibility to account for student access to WiFi and other technology-related issues. Now that we are back on campus, I find myself having to explain to students why I need deadlines to help both them and me and stay on track throughout the semester. Recently I had to explain that it would be impossible for me – and a disservice to my students – to grade every assignment in the last week before final grades are due. I can’t remember ever having such a conversation in the pre-pandemic days. “Learning loss” in my experience has been less about content and more about the obligations of the student-teacher relationship: deadlines, expectations of regular attendance, and the encouragement of student note taking have required more of my attention than ever before.    On a positive note, however, the students that showed up this fall were especially engaged. In my US History I sections, for example, I had many eager learners who forged connections between what we were discussing in class and what is happening in the nation as a whole. The topic of post-Civil War Reconstruction, for example, was never better received than this semester as students recognized that there is a direct connection between the forms of racism and segregation that grew in the wake of abolition and the systemic problems we face as a nation today. Driven by student interest this semester I spent twice as much time examining Reconstruction as I did the Civil War, which is usually the topic of greatest interest in this course. Students engaged in discussion about the shortcomings of the Freedmen’s Bureau and the reactionary politics of white southerners as black men assumed leadership positions in the early stages of Reconstruction. They imagined how our society might have been different without the terror campaigns of the KKK and the exponential growth of white citizens councils in the former Confederate States. And, they offered ideas about what federal authorities might have done differently to prevent the restoration of white supremacist state governments. As the semester was ending, I found myself researching additional Reconstruction-related materials to share with future classes … more to come in a future blog.   In the coming year I would love to hear more from the Macmillan Community about both the successes and challenges faced in our history classrooms. Are there topics that you would like to discuss with fellow faculty? Books that you’ve found particularly meaningful either to read with students or to use for course preparation? If so, please share! ... View more

Yesterday, with only three weeks of classes left before finals, a student asked me for help in another class. My “Do you need help?” – directed at the history research project we were working on – prompted him to unload the stress he was feeling about an asynchronous online science course for which he had never purchased the textbook because of a problem with his financial aid. My heart sank. I knew there was likely nothing that this student could do to salvage his grade in the course. When our class ended, we walked to the Advising Center to find someone who could provide appropriate advice. A short time later the student appeared at my office to say thank you. “I don’t ask for help,” he told me, “Because it feels as though I’m bothering people.”   I do not think this student is alone in his fear of asking for help. I belong to a Facebook group for parents of first-year students at the college that my son attends and there are regularly posts asking how to find tutors and advisors or where to locate electronic forms for add/drop. All of these, it goes without saying, are parents posting on behalf of their children. Perhaps they are being stereotypical “helicopter” parents, or maybe they are responding to the stress their children are emitting as they seek to navigate college, like my student, without asking the right people for help.   I’ve recently come to the rather cynical conclusion that if a student cannot find a quick answer on the College’s web site, they stop looking. In my experience since our post-pandemic (if that’s a thing) return to mostly in-person classes I see lots of staff throughout campus eagerly waiting to help students, and few students actively seeking out that help that they need. Case in point: Enrollment. Right now, we have several advisors stationed at a kiosk in the main part of our campus to assist students with spring course selection. And yet yesterday I overheard two students in my class complaining that they have no idea what to take or how to finalize their spring enrollment. Somewhere there is a communication disconnect.   Perhaps a side-effect of the pandemic is an over-reliance on the internet when a conversation between two humans could quickly and effectively address questions. In the case of my student, for example, he told me that he “could not find” his professor’s office hours listed online so he assumed she did not offer any. We talked through other steps he could have taken: review the syllabus, check the course learning management system for general information, and, of course, write an email to the professor.    This experience emphasized to me how important it is to have direct communication with our students, even if we never meet in person. A weekly email to asynchronous online students, for example, can be a simple way to subconsciously remind them how to contact their instructor. Last night I double-checked my own learning management system pages to make sure that students can find me easily if they are stressed. A page with key links – tutoring/writing center, library, mental health resources, etc – should also be a standard component of any online course materials.    What is your post-pandemic experience with student-teacher communication? Have you found any particularly helpful, low-stress ways to keep your students in regular contact? Please share. ... View more

This week I had the privilege of being peer evaluated. Although I’m a tenured professor my college requires faculty to continue to follow an evaluation schedule after promotion. Every three years I complete a formal self-evaluation in addition to having a written evaluation by my department chair, and a classroom visit by a colleague. Students evaluate my courses nearly every semester.   While some faculty bristle at the idea of peer evaluation, our department has embraced it as a practice over the last ten years. We voted to include peer evaluation as part of our process because we initially saw it as valuable to new faculty as they adjusted to our institution. It’s not uncommon for faculty to join our department fresh from graduate school. Having a colleague review a new teacher’s syllabi and observe their classroom practices can be illuminating to both parties. The same has proven to be true for our long-serving faculty.    In my case the colleague evaluating me has been at the college for only three years and teaches in a different discipline (political science). Prior to her visit I shared with her the syllabus and discussed the experiences I’ve had with the students in this course. In this course I’ve struggled with enrollment being low – a widespread challenge at our college as we have returned from the all-remote delivery of the pandemic. This particular course was not offered on campus prior to COVID and likely will return to being an online-only offering in the future. As a result, this semester’s delivery has often been experimental.   I spent a few minutes in the class meeting prior to my colleague’s visit preparing the students for us to have an observer. I decided to include them in the planning process for the observation and asked the students for feedback about what form of content delivery had been most successful so far in the course. Together we settled on a plan for how the class would proceed that day and decided that we should ask my evaluator to come prepared to be part of class discussion. While I did not want to burden my colleague with extra work, I provided her with copies of the assigned readings.   After more than twenty years of college-level teaching I nonetheless found myself nervous when my colleague arrived to observe. Rather than have her sit in the back like a stranger, I introduced her to my students and asked them to introduce themselves and their research topics – the class being small allowed for this to happen quickly. Since peer evaluation in our department is viewed as collegial and intentionally not intimidating, the nervous tension quickly evaporated. My colleague blended easily into our class discussion as a participant-observer.   Peer evaluation offers even seasoned faculty the opportunity to evaluate what happens in their classroom day to day. Engaging the students in planning for the visit provided me with the chance to learn what they think is working (or not) long before formal student evaluations are available at semester’s end.    What are your experiences with peer evaluation? Tips for making it less stressful and more rewarding? Please share.  ... View more

As a historian I know almost nothing about the British monarchy except what I need to get me through teaching the first weeks of colonial America. I haven’t taught Western Civ in many, many years and somehow I completely avoided British history throughout my own undergraduate education. My increased interest in the monarchy in recent years, admittedly, is founded entirely on the hours I have invested in the Netflix series “The Crown.” When the Queen passed away in September, it took me a moment to remind myself that the deceased was not Olivia Coleman, the brilliant actor upon whom my sympathetic view of Queen Elizabeth II’s life has been built, but instead a woman I knew very little about – a figurehead whose life has been serialized.   Historically based (largely fictitious) dramas have an enormous influence over the television-watching and movie-going population and how they view historical events. When “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” came out in 2019 I remember my students being stunned during our casual conversation that Quentin Tarantino had ended the movie with a fictionalized version of a real-life murder. Some felt betrayed by the way history was “changed” for the movie. I reminded them that movies are meant for entertainment and that history as narrative – when it tells the truth – often offers no comfort or enjoyment.      Somber images of the Queen’s funeral broadcast world-wide depicted family members in mourning and residents of the far-reaching British Empire offering public condolences. World leaders expressed gratitude for her lifetime of service. In those moments – seemingly made for television – we forget that the Queen as a symbol represents years of British colonial and imperial policies that have been damaging to the societies and economies of Asia, Africa and Latin America. And for that, I feel a bit guilty over the hours I’ve invested in the entertainment value of the fictional version of Queen Elizabeth II versus time spent studying the true history of her reign. If I knew more about British policies in India, for example, would the serialization of the Queen’s life – with all the dramatic flair of a soap opera – truly be so entertaining?  Probably not.   As much as I love both movies and television, I wonder if the creative minds behind such entertainment need for us as society to remain somewhat ignorant of history so that we will “enjoy” the stories. Don’t get me wrong: I do not believe that there is a giant conspiracy to keep us in the dark about history to sell movie tickets. I do, however, think there is a balance that must be struck between entertainment and the sharing of factual knowledge. Maybe the responsibility for that balance rests solely on me as historian and consumer. Thoughts?  ... View more

Recently my Macmillan Community colleague Symphonie asked members to share insights into how they deal with the “noise” present in our students’ lives. How do we, as educators, get through to our students in spite of all the distractions they are juggling?   I’ve been thinking a lot about Symphonie’s question as I’ve struggled to get my students off to a strong start in the new school year. For the first time since March 2020 I am teaching the majority of my students in person, and they do seem generally distracted. Just this week I wondered to a colleague whether we as a society have lost the ability to function as members of a group as a result of the long period of near isolation many of us experienced during the recent pandemic. During a recent class meeting, for example, a student put in earbuds and started watching a video on their cell phone as a classmate explained the central points of the homework reading. As class ended, I reminded the distracted student about my “no phones in class” policy. The response was shocking: the student felt it was fine to turn their attention elsewhere because a classmate was speaking and not me, the professor.    Later that same day I broke a class up into small groups for discussion. I was bewildered to watch as students sat with their backs towards one another for group work. It was not until I made a general announcement that members should sit facing each other that some of the students repositioned themselves so they could see and hear their classmates. I jokingly asked how they intended to do group work with their backs to one another. No response.   Now that we are back on campus en masse, therefore, we as faculty need to make a concerted effort to get students to engage with each other. A colleague in Student Affairs lamented recently that getting students to attend informational meetings for clubs and activities has never been more difficult.    To answer Symphonie’s question, I don’t think there is one simple way to cut through the noise but I do believe we have to be direct with our students and tell them what we are trying to accomplish. Yesterday, for example, as my students struggled to get started with their group work I took a moment to tell them how meaningful I believe it is that we are back in a shared learning space. Rather than me lecturing for the entire class I want them to make eye contact, to listen to each other’s voices, and to experience the value of learning collectively. I asked them to introduce their group mates to the rest of the class and to make an effort to know something about each other before they began to dissect our primary sources.    I’m happy to report that the students responded in an overwhelmingly positive manner to my plea for interaction. Taking that moment to remind them of the value of a learning community truly seemed to make a difference.    Please share your ideas here or with your fellow Macmillan Community members under Symphonie's blog linked in my first paragraph. ... View more

For the past several years – long before the COVID-19 pandemic began – I have taught Black History as an asynchronous, online course. Our department found that demand for the course was strongest among undergraduates from other colleges who were seeking to take the course at a time when it was not available at their own institutions. As a result, we typically filled two to three online sections every semester as well as during summer sessions. As we work to rebuild our on-campus community post-COVID we are offering one section of this traditionally online course on campus this fall. As of now, a week before we begin, this course has 11 enrolled students.    As I evaluate what I have prepared from previous semesters I realize that the short (20 minute) recorded lectures that worked so well in an online course now must be modified for in-person delivery. I need to think about when/how students will participate within the course. And I need to consider additional preparation in advance of student questions. Let’s face it: the recorded lecture provides us with the luxury of insulation from on-the-spot queries. I am reminded in this process that teaching online is not easier or more difficult than teaching in person, it is simply different.   Perhaps most daunting to me is the enrollment of the course. Is it just me or do other professors feel awkward lecturing to small groups of students? I’m used to lecturing to 25 to 30 students at a time. I feel compelled with this class to emphasize the importance of class discussion – human interaction and debate, including recognizing one’s own role in fostering positive discussion. After a spring semester of “quiet” classes, I’m concerned that students have grown so accustomed to asynchronous learning that they are increasingly reluctant to engage. I’m combing the internet for suggestions about student engagement, especially small groups, and seeking ways that other faculty have worked with their students to overcome their isolated COVID-period educational experiences.   Help wanted!  ... View more

One of the best parts of summer for me is that I have time to catch up on reading. Oftentimes the choices I make in the summer months are works that I hope to share with my students in some way during the academic year. I try to revisit at least one work of fiction that I truly love. As I’ve blogged about before, consistently my first choice is Pat Barker’s Regeneration (1991), which combines my interest in two areas – the First World War and the history of mental health care. This summer I followed Regeneration with a favorite of mine from high school, The Great Gatsby (1925). My son, an aspiring writer and filmmaker, and I watched the 2013 Baz Luhrmann version and I felt immediately compelled to reverse the screenwriters’ changes to Fitgerald’s masterpiece by re-reading the original text, which never disappoints me.    As much as I’ve worked during my twenty-plus years of teaching American history to add diverse perspectives to my US History II survey, there is something timeless about Fitzgerald’s window into 1920s’ white wealth and privilege that I believe still has lessons for our 21st-century students. For this reason I’m planning to reintroduce the book in my spring 2023 US History II classes after a several year hiatus. I’m hoping that my students will find in Fitzgerald’s 1920s’ society themes to connect to their observations of American life nearly one-hundred years later. The Great Gatsby is now available as a free download through Project Gutenberg making it an even more appealing choice for today’s students.   I’m considering using Fitzgerald’s work in conjunction with the short stories of Anzia Yezierska (Hungry Hearts, 1920), which is also available open access. I’ve tried, unsuccessfully, the last few times I’ve taught US History II to do less 19th-century history and more 20th in response to students’ interests in the more modern period. An increased focus on the 1920s feels like a good place to start.   What kinds of content changes are you considering for next academic year? Have you recently used Fitzgerald’s or Yezierska’s work in a history class? How have students responded? Please share!   Happy Summer! ... View more

A few blogs ago I addressed the challenge of discussing Roe v. Wade in the classroom when students have radically different and often deeply personal opinions on the topic of abortion. I suggested focusing on the factual aspects of the history of birth control in the United States and the legal case itself – in other words, separating our personal views as human beings from the teachers/educators who seek to show no bias in their approach.   Admittedly, I'm stopped in my tracks this week by the 6-3 decision of the Supreme Court to overturn Roe v. Wade, which – among other thoughts – has me questioning how this moment will impact the way I teach US women’s history. Previously my students have studied what came before Roe – Comstock Laws, Margaret Sanger, the horrors of illegal abortion, the growing acceptance of the use of birth control during the Great Depression, and then the legalization of abortion in 1973.    I think as a social historian I like to present forward progress as I teach – my generally optimistic outlook on the world is at least partly to blame. As social historians, for example, we discuss with our students time periods in which members of our society faced a major challenge, we analyze who/which social groups responded to the challenge, we address the political aspects, and we consider how the “problem” was resolved. Case in point: Reconstruction ended chattel slavery but gave rise to Jim Crow laws, which in turn spurred a national movement for civil rights that continues to this day, albeit with changing dimensions and characteristics. We study tragedies such as the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire to identify ways in which government action was needed to protect our citizens while they worked.     The SCOTUS decision to end federally protected abortion rights will no doubt create a new marker in how we teach women’s history. Instead of the pre-Roe/post-Roe narrative that once formed so many class discussions, we must now present a narrative that includes the reversal and its consequences. For many historians of US women’s history this new narrative will be difficult to teach as it requires a reckoning with the many factors that have brought us to this place, including (but not limited to) the rise of the New Right, the growing power of Christian conservatives and the severe backlash against feminism that followed the Second Wave. Some women’s historians will no doubt choose to grapple with conservative critiques of feminists who supported President Clinton despite his personal history of sexual misconduct. The Trump administration – also plagued by accusations of inappropriate behavior towards women – may find its most lasting legacy to be a SCOTUS more socially conservative than the president himself.   How will the reversal of Roe v. Wade change the way you teach women’s history? Please share. ... View more

Calling on museum enthusiasts! Given that it’s Pride Month, I thought it would be appropriate to share links to some LGBTQ+ museums and historical sites with you, our History Community. These sites are spread across the United States and are accessible year-round. This is a great way to celebrate Pride Month and learn about the rich, heartbreaking, and triumphant stories of LGBTQ+ folks, past and present. Have you been to any of these locations? Maybe you know of some more sites that I didn’t mention below. You’re welcome to share your recommendations and experiences in the comment section at the bottom of this page! New York New York, NY: Leslie+Lohman Museum of Gay & Lesbian Art (https://www.leslielohman.org/)  Staten Island NY: Alice Austen House (https://aliceausten.org/)  Brooklyn, NY: Lesbian Herstory Archives (https://lesbianherstoryarchives.org/) Florida Fort Lauderdale, FL: Stonewall National Museum & Archives (https://stonewall-museum.org/) Fort Lauderdale, FL: World AIDS Museum (https://worldaidsmuseum.org/)  Illinois  Chicago, IL: The Legacy Walk  (https://legacyprojectchicago.org/)  Pennsylvania  Pittsburgh, PA: The Andy Warhol Museum (https://www.warhol.org/)  California San Francisco, CA: GLBT Historical Society Museum (https://www.glbthistory.org/museum-about-visitor-info) Los Angeles, CA: ONE National Gay & Lesbian Archives (https://one.usc.edu/)   ***Explore more sites recommended by the Nation Parks Service here: https://www.nps.gov/subjects/tellingallamericansstories/lgbtqplaces.htm    Sources:  https://www.tripsavvy.com/top-lgbtq-museums-5188469  https://www.thrillist.com/travel/new-york/nyc-lgbtq-historic-sites    https://ny.curbed.com/maps/lgbt-pride-month-nyc-history-landmarks   ... View more

Being an educator comes with the responsibility to create space for respectful intellectual discourse, especially at the college level. To do this, it's important to make your classroom an inclusive environment. Below, I have suggested 5 ways you can do this by showing your allyship to the LGBTQ+ community. These tips don’t just apply to the classroom, however. They are also ways to support your LGBTQ+ colleagues to feel welcomed in your shared workplace. Do you have more ways to be a better ally? Feel free to share your own tips in the comment section at the bottom of the page! Add gender pronouns to introductions. On the first day of class, when everyone goes around introducing themselves and their majors or a “fun fact”, ask your students to share their pronouns if they feel comfortable.  Try not to make assumptions. For example, when asking about someone’s marital status, try to use gender-neutral terms like “spouse” or “partner”. This creates a safer environment for LGBTQ+ folks to participate in casual workplace conversations and discuss some of their personal life if they so choose. Unsure of someone’s gender? Politely ask their preferred pronouns or refer to them using “they/them” pronouns (like I just did) until told otherwise. Add a bit of decoration. In your office, you can communicate your allyship with the LGBTQ+ community through posters or by displaying the rainbow flag. Whether big or small, on your door or on your desk, you can signal that your office is an inclusive environment for anyone who walks in.  Add your pronouns to your email signature! So simple, yet effective because it shows you care. Not sure how to do this? Here is a link to some instructions: https://medium.com/@cornellgsgic/a-guide-to-adding-your-pronouns-to-5-tools-you-use-every-day-b67c92844601  Include queer history within your courses. LGBTQ+ folks have been present in more than just civil rights. They’ve been scientists, writers, artists, mathematicians, and more. I encourage you to find them within your historical topics of interest. Here are some tools to help you get started: Alphabetical list of LGBTQ+ Historical Figures: https://www.learningforjustice.org/magazine/publications/best-practices-for-serving-lgbtq-students/appendix-b-lgbtq-historical-figures  “Author’s with Ignored Queer History” by Northeastern University: https://litdigitaldiversity.northeastern.edu/the-ignorance-of-an-identity-authors-with-ignored-queer-history/  “LGBTQ Rights Timeline in American History”: https://www.lgbtqhistory.org/lgbt-rights-timeline-in-american-history/  LGBTQ+ Articles from History.com: https://www.history.com/tag/lgbt-history  LGBTQ History Timeline Reference Sheet: https://www.glsen.org/sites/default/files/LGBTQ-History-Timeline-References.pdf  ... View more

Recently my Macmillan Community colleague Claudia Cruz posted “History of the Word ‘Queer’ and other LGBTQ+ Vocab”. Upon reading this post I was immediately reminded of a heated conversation that took place in my classroom five or so years ago.    A traditionally aged college student who identified as transgender used the word “queer” when describing a particular group of women in 19th-century America. As this student spoke, a classmate in his 60s interrupted to ask that the student stop using what he viewed as a “derogatory” term. A brief argument ensued in which Student One contended they had the right to use the word while Student Two conveyed his belief that the historical use of the word made it unacceptable in the classroom. After class I tried to mitigate their disagreement. It was a difficult conversation. I too grew up in the era in which “queer” was viewed as slang and derogatory. In my youth none of my gay friends were publicly “out.” They disliked the word “queer” as it was often hurled at them as an insult. Claudia Cruz acknowledges in her blog that to some degree in the LGBTQ+ community the word remains problematic. “Student Two” who objected to its use in class identified as heterosexual and said he was uncomfortable with the word because he viewed himself as an ally, hence his decision to speak out against its use.    The conclusion I drew from this encounter, which has been reiterated to me in dozens of classroom experiences in the years since, is quite simple: language is complicated, especially when it relates to personal or group identity.    Students in my Black History class are struggling with this concept this week as they read James Weldon Johnson’s The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man. When I have assigned the book in previous semesters, I’ve noticed that Johnson’s use of the word “colored” throughout the story leads to students using the word in our class discussion and in their writings. Rather than correct each individual students as the word is incorrectly used, I now introduce the reading with the following statement in an email to the class as an effort to force students to think about the change in language use over time:   This week's novel, The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man, was first published in 1912. In 1912 it was acceptable to use the word "colored" to describe a person who was not white. Today, it is NOT. Please, when you are writing about the book/characters/themes, do not use the word "colored" as a descriptive unless you are directly quoting the author. In 2022 we should use language appropriate to our time: person of color, African American, Native American, black person, brown person, etcetera. The term "colored" stopped being accepted in the 1960s during the post-World War II civil rights and black power movements. You are invited to learn more about this change in word usage in the following piece on the issue from National Public Radio (2014): The Journey From 'Colored' To 'Minorities' To 'People Of Color' : Code Switch : NPR and in a second article from the Chicago Tribune (2020): Column: Why is ‘people of color’ OK but not ‘colored people’? A reading list for white folks - Chicago Tribune   Students have been incredibly receptive to this invitation to consider the historical evolution of language. Several have emailed me to say that they appreciate being educated on the proper terminology to use because they want to be sensitive to the way people identify themselves. This experience and Claudia Cruz’s recent blog remind me, once again, that as educators we have a duty not only to help our students learn facts but to enhance their understanding of the way in which words can have positive and negative connotations. We cannot assume that their pre-collegiate experiences have modeled them to speak with sensitivity or with an eye towards historical change. This knowledge, ultimately, can lead our students towards more cooperative participation in our classrooms and society in general. ... View more